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Oh my what a trying thing it is for a feller
To git kooped up in this ere little plais
Where the males dont run reglar no how
Nor the females nuther, cos there aint none.
But by the mails I mean the post orifices
By which we git our letters and sufforth
From the Atlantic States and the British Provinces.
But here there aint no kind of a chance
Except by the Sutherner or the leky Fremont
Which runs very seldom, and onst in the latter
I come to this plais, and wisht I was furder.
The natives is all sorts complected ;
Some white, some black, & some kinder speckled,
And about fourteen rowdy vagabonds
That gits drunk and goes round lickin everybody.
And four stores to every white human
Which are kept by the children of Zion
Where they sell their goods bort at auction
At seven times more than they costed,
With a grand jury thats sittin forever
But dont never seem to indite nothin,
And if they do what comes on it
The petty ones finds em not guilty
And then they go off much in licker
And hit the fust feller they come to.
All night long in this sweet little village
You hear the soft note of the pistol

With the pleasant screak of the victim
Whose been shot prehaps in his gizzard.
And all day hosses is running
With drunken greasers astraddle
A hollerin and hoopin like demons
And playin at billiards and monte
Till they've nary red cent to ante
Having busted up all the money
Which they borryed at awful percentage
On ranches which they haint no title
To, and the U. S. board of commission
Will be derned if they ever approve it.
While the squire he goes round a walkin
And sasses all respectable persons
With his talk of pills he's invented
To give a spirit of resentment.
And the persons fite duels on paper.
Oh its awful this here little plais is
And quick as my business is finished

I shall leave here you may depend on it
By the very first leky steambote,
Or if they are all of em busted
I'll hire a mule from some feller
And just put out to Santy Clara.

“ THE JUDGE” looks melancholy !-He knows that this is Phenix's Last, and that's exactly “ where the shoe pinches.” This squib is adapted to the comprehension of the meanest shoemaker.



(Reported expressly for the San Diego Herald) Tuesday last, the 4th of July, being the anniversary of the discovery of San Diego by the Hon. J. J. Warner, in 1846, as well as that of our National Independence (“ long may it wave,” etc.), was celebrated in this city with all that spirit and patriotism for which it has ever been distinguished.

Every citizen, with the exception of those who had retired in a state of intoxication, was aroused at 2 A.M. by the soul-stirring and tremendous report of the Plaza Artillery, which had been carefully loaded the previous evening with two pounds of powder and half a bushel of public documents franked to this place by our late honorable representatives. Each citizen on being awakened in this manner (if he imitated the example of your respected reporter), reflected a moment with admiration on our glorious institutions; with pride on our great and increasing country, and with gratitude on the efforts of those patriotic spirits who had thus aroused him, and after

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murmuring some aspiration for their future happiness, was about to sink again to sleep, when—Bang! No. 2, more powder, more public documents, effectually aroused him again, to go through the same train of thought, murmur the same aspirations, a little warmer, perhaps, this time, and again become sleepy in time for Bang! No. 3. In this agreeable manner the attention was occupied and the mind filled with patriotic ideas until just before daylight, when the powder unfortunately gave out, though four bushels of public documents still remained (but they wouldn't go off), and the firing ceased. At sunrise the National Banner would have unfolded its “ broad stripes and bright stars ” to the breeze, but for the unlucky circumstances of there being no halyards to our flag-staff. We are gratified to learn that a new set will probably be furnished by the Board of Trustees before the next anniversary.

At 8 A.M. a procession was formed, and moved to the sound of an excellent military band, consisting of a gong and a hand-bell, across the Plaza, where it separated into two divisions, one proceeding to the Union House, the other to the Colorado Hotel. At each of these excellent establishments an elegant dejeuner was served up, of the sumptuousness of which the following bill of fare will give some faint idea:

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