and he should never indulge in personalities, however humorous they may appear, or however much they may amuse himself, or be calculated to amuse his readers.

It is for this reason that we forbear publishing the following capital thing, dramatized expressly for our paper, and which we are solemnly assured occurred very nearly, if not exactly, as represented.

SCENE.-The interior of the City Post Office at San Francisco, Gov. B- discovered, sitting, holding a copy of the San Francisco Herald at arm's-length, in a pair of tongs, and reading it with every mark of scorn and deep disgust. Enter Judge A. from the South, Editor of the San Diego Herald.

Judge A. Ah! Governor, your most obedient; how do you do, sir?

Governor B. (putting the Herald in a bucket of water and laying down the tongs). How do you do, A., how d'ye do? Well, how are matters going on in San Diego County?

Judge A. Oh, admirably; you may depend on the unanimous support of that county, sir; the Herald has an immense, a commanding influence there; it will be felt, sir. I have left the paper in the charge of an able literary friend there, sir, Mr. Phoenix, probably you may have heard of him, a man

of great ability; I expect an admirable paper from him this week, sir.

Governor B. (with a bland smile). Ah, thorough Democrat, eh?

Judge A. Oh, certainly; I never thought to ask him, but—oh, of course, certainly he is a Democrat. Governor B. Oh, certainly; I shall be glad to see his paper, Mr. A., ah! very glad, sir.

Here the mail is opened, the Judge eagerly receives a bundle of the first Phoenix Herald, hastily tears off the envelope, hands one copy to the Governor, and takes another himself. Each put on spectacles and glance at the first column, where appears in fatal capitals the respectable name of William Waldo. Grand Tableau!!! The Governor and the Judge gaze at each other over the tops of their respective papers, the one with wrathful and indignant glance, the other with the most concentrated expression of horror and misery of which the human countenance is capable.

[Here the Ghost of old Squibob himself (ought to have been) seen rising, and hovering for an instant over the pair in an attitude of benediction, murmuring, "Bless ye, my children," larfs and disappears in a "sweet scented" cloud.]

We forbear to give the conversation that ensued this is a Christian community in which we live,

and the introduction of excessive profanity in the columns of a public journal, even as a quotation, would not and ought not to be tolerated.

We have received by the Goliah an affecting letter from Judge Ames, beseeching us to return to the fold of Democracy, from which he is inclined to intimate we have been straying. Is it possible that we have been laboring under a delusion--and that Waldo is a Whig! Why! lor! How singular! But anxious to atone for our past errors, willing to please the taste of the Editor, and, above all, ever solicitous

to be on the strong side, we gladly abjure our former opinions, embrace Democracy with ardor, slap her on the back, declare ourselves in favor of erecting a statue of Andrew Jackson in the Plaza, and, to prove our sincerity, run up to-day at the head of our col

umns a Democratic ticket for 1855, which we hope will please the most fastidious. Being rather hard up for principles for our political faith, we have commenced the study of the back numbers of the Democratic Review, and finding therein that "DEMOCRACY IS THE SUPREMACY OF MAN OVER HIS ACCIDENTS," we hereby express our contempt for a man with a sprained ankle, and unmitigated scorn for anybody who may be kicked by a mule or a woman. Democratic, ain't it? Oh, we understand these things. Bless your soul, Judge, we're a Democrat.

That's

LATE.-Passing by one of our doggeries about 3 A.M., the other morning, from which proceeded a sound of revelry by night," a hapless stranger on his homeward way paused to obtain a slight refreshment, and to the host he said, "It appears to me your visitors are rather late to-night." "Oh, no,” replied the worthy landlord," the boys of San Diego generally run for forty-eight hours, stranger; it's a little late for night before last, but for to-night! why, it's just in the shank of the evening." Volumes could not have said more.

WANTED-By the subscriber, a serious young man, with fixed principles of integrity and sobriety, to make beds, sweep a room, black boots, and bring

water. For a youth of religious principles, to whom a large salary is not of so much object as a knowledge of the business, an eligible situation is here offered.

The best of references given and required.
J. PHOENIX.

N. B. No female in disguise need apply.

AN APT QUOTATION.-His Reverence, coming into the Colorado House last Sunday afternoon, was invited by the urbane proprietor to irrigate. Being in an arid state, he consented to take a glass of lemonade, but accidentally took a brandy cocktail which had been mixed for Mr. Mariatowskie, and drank it off without noticing his mistake. "Why, Doctor," said Frank, when he observed the disappearance of his sustenance, "that was my horn you drank." "Ah, my young friend," quoth the good old man, with a benevolent smile and a smack of his lips, while the moisture stood on the inside of his venerable spectacles-"Ah, my young friend, the horn of the ungodly shall be put down." Psalm lxxv, 10.

FOR SALE. A valuable Law Library, lately the property of a distinguished legal gentleman of San Francisco, who has given up practise and removed to the Farralone Islands. It consists of one volume of