Page:The Californian vol. 2.pdf/395

388 London has fled; but yet amid
 * The heat and poison air

Three millions linger—never rid
 * Of labor, famine, care.

Three millions who, in den and court,
 * Hid from God's wind, God's sun,

Pine for air fresher, purer thought,
 * Or end lives scarce begun.

No glimpses of green waving trees
 * For them, nor dewy grass;

E'en Nature's ripeness brings disease
 * And death to them, alas!

So time for some in sadness flows;
 * To some in perfumed ease;

God grant His pity unto those—
 * His patience give to these!

{{sc|The Californian has now been running three-quarters of a year. From the issuance of the January number to the present time, it has been met with words of encouragement and approval alone. Personal interviews, private letters, and the expressions of the public press have all bid us God-speed. The reception which the magazine has met proves that a field is open for it on this coast, and a glance at the pages of the various numbers reveals the existence of a local talent which, to many, was unsuspected. But it has been evident for some time past to those interested in the enterprise, that, in disregarding the experience of all other publications, by fixing the price so far below that of other monthlies, a mistake had been made, which, sooner or later, would have to be corrected. The large sums which have to be expended for paper, composition, press-work, and the innumerable expenses of printing, issuing, and circulating a monthly magazine, which have, of late, been higher than for many years before, prevent the possibility of placing the publication on that high plane of literary and typographical excellence which its proprietors desire, without a change in the present price. The only alternative was one which the owners would not for a moment consider, that of deteriorating the quality and diminishing the quantity supplied at the existing rates. For some time, therefore, the only question has been, when shall this change be effected, and it has been decided, after consultation, that the sooner it is done the better. Commencing, therefore, with the first day of October, the price of the magazine will be advanced to thirty-five cents for a single number, and to $4.00 for the yearly subscription, the usual price for first-class monthlies. In order that there may be no dissatisfaction among those of our patrons who have not, as yet, subscribed by the year, {{sc|The Californian}} will receive yearly subscriptions at the old rates ($3.00) until the date fixed for the change in the price (October 1, 1880). No one, therefore, needs be affected by the change for the present year. With this change, we expect to redouble our efforts to make the magazine worthy of the high favor with which it has been received, and are able already to promise new features which will make it more attractive than ever before.—[Reprinted from last month.]

{{c|{{larger|A LITERAL MEXICAN.}}}}

One of our Eastern exchanges tells this story: Wickedly anxious to obey orders to the letter was a Mexican taking the stand, in a New York police court, as a witness in an assault case. Having informed the Judge that he spoke English, he was told to state what he knew of the affair in question. Thereupon the prosecuting attorney, an Irishman by birth, quite unnecessarily intervened with:

"Ye onderstand, sor, that ye are to go on and state to the coort what ye know about the case in your own language. "

"You want me to tell the story in my own language?" asked the witness.

"Yes, sor, I do," replied the lawyer.

The Mexican began: "Este mujur quenia a mi casa—"

"What is that ye're saying?" exclaimed the attorney.

"I am speaking in my own language, as you requested me to do," was the reply.

"I didn't mane for ye to spake your own language when I said for ye to spake yer own language," exclaimed the legal gentleman. "Can't ye spake to me as I'm spakin' to ye?"

"I can try, sir," said the Mexican; and he went on with his story thus: "Well, thin, yer Honor, this man and this woman kem to my house, and says the man to the woman, says he, 'I want to spake wid ye,' says he—"

Here the indignant examiner broke in with: "What do ye mane by spaking in that way?"

"Shure, sor," responded the witness, "ye axed me to spake in the language ye use yourself, and shure I'm thryin' to oblige ye."

Then the Judge thought it time to interfere, and bade the Mexican talk English.

"With pleasure, your Honor," said he. "I should have done so at first, but the learned gentleman seemed rather particular in regard to the language in which he wished me to give my evidence."

''This is the last number before the price is advanced. Read the announcement on this page, and send in your yearly subscription before the first day of October, so as to get the benefit of the old rate.''

{{rule|4em}}

{{c|{{larger|UNDERSTOOD.}}}}

{{block center| ::::In the gloaming
 * Love is born,
 * When the roaming
 * Sun is gone.

When the starlight casts its shade On the lover and the maid,
 * As they sit
 * With wistful eyes,

Silent in their sweet surprise.


 * By the token
 * Understood,
 * Though unspoken
 * Be the word;

By the trembling, conscious air, As it bends to stroke their hair,
 * Two shall plight
 * With wistful eyes,

Clasping hands in sweet surprise. }}