nitate," a week ago, and placidly they sit there

The only topic of interest now discussed among

us is the approaching election, and on this subject I desire to say a few words:

To those old soldiers who were with us before the adoption of the Constitution, and, in consequence, are entitled to vote, I would say: Remember, my lads, that the duty of a good soldier in time of peace is to be an estimable citizen, and, as such, to assist in the election of good men to office. The man who seeks your vote for any office by furnishing you with whisky, gratis, and credit at his little shop (if he happens to keep one), is by no means calculated to be either a good maker or dispenser of the laws. Drink his whisky, by all means, if you like it, and he invites you, but make him no pledges, and on the day of election vote any other ticket than that he gives you. You know well enough, oh! my soldiers, how much he cares for you, and can appreciate his professions of attachment. They amount to precisely the same as those of Jacob, who bought the birthright of Esau for a mess of pottage. Don't barter yours for a little whisky, and make for the county a worse mess than Esau could ever have concocted.

Should any gentleman, differing with me in opinion, feel anxious "to give utterance to the thought," I can only say, my dear sir, the Herald is an Independent paper, and while I have charge of it its light shall shine for all; express yourself, therefore, fully, but concisely, in an ably written article; hand it to me, and I will, with pleasure, present it to the world through the columns of this wide-spread journal, merely reserving for myself the privilege of using you up, as I shall infallibly do, and to a fearful extent, if facts are facts, reason is reasonable, and “I know myself intimately," of which, at present, I have no manner of doubt.

And thus having said my say, in a plain, straightforward manner, I shall close, for the present, with the assurance to the public that I remain their very obedient and particularly humble servant.

Mr. Kerran drove the Chaplain to the Mission from Old Town last Sunday, after the performance of the afternoon service—

"With four gray horses, and two on the lead,

They made tracks for the other side of Jordan."

The rattling 2.40 pace at which they tore along was rather too much for the worthy preacher.

"Kerran," gasped his anxious reverence, as he

held firmly by the back seat, after a flying leap over a stone of unusually large dimensions, “do you know

why you are like the Pharisees?"

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No, sir," said

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Kerran, touching up his off leader. Why," rejoined the good old man, "ye appear unto men too fast."

Kerran gave a deep groan, and the horses struck a religious walk, which they adhered to until their arrival at the Mission.

"THE SQUIRE'S STORY."-"Oh!" says the Squire, "I wish't I was married and well of it, I dread it powerful—I'd like to marry a widow-I allers liked widows since I knowed one down in Georgia that suited my ideas, adzactly.

"About a week after her husband died, she started.

down to the graveyard whar they'd planted of him, as she said, to read the prescription onto his monument. When she got there, she stood a minute a looking at the stones which was put at each end of the grave, with an epithet on 'em that the minister had writ for her. Then she bust out, 'Oh, boo hoo,' says she, Jones-he was one of the best of men; I remember how the last time he come home, about a week ago, he brought down from town some sugar, and a little tea, and some store goods for me, and lots of little necessaries, and a little painted hoss for Jeems, which that blessed child got his mouth all yaller with sucking of it, and then he kissed the children all round, and took down that good old fiddle of his'n and played up that good old tune,

“'Rake her down, Sal, oh rang dang diddle,

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Oh rang, dang diddle dang, dang dang da.'

Here," says the Squire, "she begin to dance, and I just thought she was the greatest woman ever I see."

"The Squire" always gives a short laugh after telling this anecdote, and then, filling and lighting his pipe, subsides into an arm-chair in front of the "Exchange," and indulges in calm and dreamy reflection.

WANTED.-Back numbers of the Democratic Review, speeches and writings of Jefferson, Coffroth,

Calhoun, Bigler, Van Buren, and others. Copies of the San Joaquin Republican (with George's daguerreotype), Files of the Times and Transcript (a few at a time), and a diagram representing the construction of the old United States Bank for the use of a young man desirous of turning Democrat.Apply at this office (by firing a gun, or punching on the ceiling, he being deeply engaged in study in the garret), to

J. PHOENIX.

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.-We have been accused, with great injustice, of a " reckless propensity to lampoon." We disclaim, with indignation, any such propensity. On the contrary, such has been our anxiety to avoid personalities, or unpleasant allusions, that we have actually suppressed some of the very funniest things we have ever heard-little drolleries over which we have laughed, ourselves, in the sanctity of the sanctum, until the "arm-chair" has cracked again, and wondering men in the billiardroom below have poked up against the ceiling with their cues (that they might take their cue from us), simply because the mention of some name, Jones, Brown, or Muggins, has rendered us unable to present them to the public. The conductor of a public journal is responsible for everything that he presents,