bones and a very little of-it might have been turkey-flesh-perhaps it was, but I couldn't eat, my appetite had vanished, for as I surveyed the dish before me I was led to think of famine, and of the sufferings of that poor turkey when alive, of how fatigued he must have often been when taking his daily rounds about the barnyard, and what an immense exertion it must have required for that small amount of flesh to have propelled such a proportion of bones. I felt really sorry for that turkey, and had he died a natural death I would liked to have written his epitaph, something like the following:

I died, and here I lie-yet lying, do not lieStarvation was my only ill-I really was not fit to kill, So saved my life by dying.

But the best and fattest turkeys in the world-and I am sure California can boast of them do not make Thanksgiving. To eat a piece of turkey and call it Thanksgiving is a jest-a farce-a mockery-a slander upon that glorious institution. Thanksgiving! what is it? Why it is the re-union of friends, the annual gathering of families, the meeting of parents and children, of our best, our dearest friendsthe old and young-generations are gathered together, and, throwing aside all cares, meet with smiles, with light and happy hearts-such is Thanksgiving in good old New England-and what more beautiful than a whole generation gathered about the festive board, from the aged grand-dame to the lisping babe-extremes almost meeting every eye beaming with a joyful lustre, and every heart beating with a happy thrill of pleasure-even grandma, forgetting her dotage, imagines she is young again, and breaking forth in merry peals of laughter, repeats the oft-told tales of her youthful days; and for this one day at least in all the year, heart beats to kindred heart, and playing upon the self-same string, striking upon the self-same chord, send forth their thanks in unison, which the good spirits hovering near take up and bear away to heaven. And such is Thanksgiving-not the turkey, but the sauce served with it; a rich sauce, composed of sweets gathered from happy smiles, seasoned with the sages gathered there, spiced with merry peals of laughter, and warmed up with glowing hearts. But this is only to be found at home, and there is but one HOME, and that where we were ushered into life, where live the associations of childhood and youth, where he the green fields and meadows which our youthful feet so oft have pressed in boyhood sports, where the same old

waves ripple and whisper along the sea shore, as when we were wont to listen, where the same ocean rolls, upon whose surface we so oft have sailed, where the same laughing rivulet ripples along as when we played upon its banks, where those old church bells each Sabbath morn chime out their sweet harmonious notes, speaking volumes full of home, and where in all its solemn state and silence is the old church yard, where lie our fathers' bones, and by whose side a place is marked out for us; here, and only here, is HOME. We may try in a distant land to smother the feelings, and cheat ourselves into the belief that we have made a new home, but the feeling is only smothered-no change, no place, no time, ever will, or ever can eradicate that deep-rooted, never dying af fection which we ever must and ever will retain and cherish for our first, our only home. When we left that home and wandered to this far-off land, we became pioneers, and as it ever has been with pioneers so it must be with us; we must experience that feeling of restlessness, that uneasy spirit, that void occasioned by the loss of home; but we are pioneers in a land where nature has showered her richest blessings, and where if we but pursue the same course that we would at home, if we are true to the principles instilled into our youthful minds, if we follow in the same paths we trod in early days at home, if we but persevere in endeavoring to establish a good moral tone to society, and to rectify the evils already done, we shall prosper and live happy even here; and as we pass from buoyant manhood into ripe old age, we shall travel sweetly and smoothly along the valley unto death, with no cloud upon the horizon before us, no shadow on the past, feeling that in our lives we have done well, that we have not lived for naught, that we have made for our children a home in a land overflowing with "milk and honey," that we have planted around them associations for which posterity shall bless us, and that to hail California as a birth-place and as a home shall fill their hearts with pride, the soul with pleasure.

And may we live that such shall be our end-live to see our children grow up to honor, love and bless us; and if we cannot feel that this is our home, it is theirs, and in them we live again, and with them we can help to form the circle around the festive board Thanksgiving days.

What is bigger than a whale? Why, a whaler, to be sure!

THE LORD'S PRAYER, IN SEVERAL LANGUAGES.

The following versions of the LORD'S PRAYER, we doubt not, will afford considerable interest to our studious readers; and as the long winter evenings are coming fast, will be a source of considerable gratification to our young friends, to examine the construction of different languages, and perhaps not only tempt them to commit each of the following to memory, but induce them to usefully employ their leisure by studying one or more of the ancient or modern languages. In this age of money-hunting, the accomplishments of a progressive age, like the present, are apt to be overlooked by the young,- -a mistake not easily corrected in after years.

ENGLISH.

A. D. 1158.-Fader ur in heune, haleweide beith thi neune, cumin thi kuneriche, thi wille beoth idon in heune, and in errhe. The eueryeu dawe bried, gif ous thilk dawe. And vorzif ure detters as vi yorsifen ure dettoures. And lene ous nought into temtation, bot delyvor eus of uvel. Amen.

A. D. 1300.-Fadir ure in hevene, Halewyd be thi name, thi kingdom come, thi wille be don as in hevene and in erthe-Our urche dayes bred give us to daye. And foregive us oure dettes as we foregive oure dettoures. And lead us nor in temptation, bote delyverr us of yvil. Amen.

A. D. 1370.—Oure fadir that art in heunes hallowid be thi name, thi kingdom come to, be thi wille done in erthe as in heune, geve to us this day oure breed oure other substaunce forgene to us oure dettis as we forgauen to oure dettouris, lede us not into temptation; but delyuer us yvel. Amen.

A. D. 1524.- O oure father which arte in

hevon, hallowed be thy name. Let thy king dom come. Thy wyoll be fulfilled as well in earth as it is in hevon. Give us this day oure dayly brede. And forgeve us oure treaspaces even as we forgeve our treaspacers. And lede us not into temptacioun, but delyver us from evell. For thyne is the kingdome and the power and the glorye for

ever. Amen.

A. D. 1581. Our father which art in heaun, sanctified be thy name. Let thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heauen, in earth also. Give us to-day our superstantial bread. And forgive us our dettes as we forgive our detters. And lede us not into temptation. But delivere us from evil. Amen.

A. D. 1611.-Our father which art in heaun, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our dayly bread. And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lede us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thyne is the kingdome, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.

A. D. 1857.- Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.

Amen.

ening himself he spoke with a voice more than earthly, 'twas inspiration!" As you value happiness beware of females !”

Tom Brooks, one of the liveliest and best hearted fellows that ever lived, he was married about a year since, and yesterday I saw Mrs. Brooks sailing majestically along, and poor Tom followed dragging a basket carriage. He looked like a man going to his own funeral. I nodded to him, and he returned it with a sickly smilepoor fellow.

John Roberts, another of our fellows, was married three years ago, and has now two children, who, together with wife, are, and always have been, sick. Since his marriage I have rarely seen him on the street, but he was either going to the apothecary shop or for the doctor-he enjoys (?) "the comforts of a home -a sick wife and squalling babies.

Charles Hartwell is now my "chum ;" he lost his wife some six months since, and for the space of two weeks was inconsolable; he repeated to me, until I felt like kicking him, her many rare virtues, and the very many excellent points in her character which he had just discovered. A month ago he told me that he was happier than he ever had been in his life; and last week, when I joked him about Mary Ann, (over the way) he placed his right hand upon my shoulder, and looking me straight in the eye, said, with voice and manner so impressive that I shall never forget it: "Felix, never again joke with me upon the subject of matrimony. I have been there is no joke!" Sam Coffin, too, lost his wife. She ran away with his partner, and left Sam with a little girl of five years, and an infant aged six months. Who would not be a bachelor? free, careless, and happy! I would not say there are no happy marriages: on the contrary, with some, married life is a pleasant day perpetual sunshine. The occasional clouds which flit across their pathway, are but the coloring to the picture. But with the majority-aye, nine out of every ten! but eke out a miserable existence. With them, life is ever clouded, dark, and dreary; and if perchance a playful sunbeam pierces the gloom, it flickers for a moment, then dies out, and the darkness seems blacker yet. I consider that I have been particularly fortunate, and that, by a special dispensation of providence! I have been permitted to avoid the many snares which have been laid to entrap me. I do not object to be ing called a BACHELOR, but I do object to being called old. I trust that I am too

much of a gentleman to retaliate, and for the kind(!) wishes you so profusely shower upon me in the closing of your epistle, I forgive and pity you. You have probably lived so long under the shadow of maidenhood, that your natural disposition has become acrid, and your nerves are easily excited. Go into the country, Eugenia; breathe for a while pure air; commune with nature; drink milk, and read a few chapters of the New Testament every day. Twill calm your mind; and a mind at rest will produce a better complexion than all the cosmetics ever made. Plain features may become animated, and even interesting; and when you succeed in alluring some young man into the harbor of mrtrimony, use him kindly, and prove, by constant practice, that there are charms about the fireside, and that a sick bed may be even pleasant; that arm-chairs, slippers, and clean linen with the buttons on, are not altogether imaginary. As for myself, I am content and happy as a bache lor; subscribing myself

Yours, good-naturedly,
FELIXANDER DOINGS.

Doingsville, Sept. 5, 1857.

"Let her thoughts fold up like flowers In the twilight of the mind," she prevails upon her other half to commence the unpoetical but (to her) musical employment of grinding coffee! until she falls asleep. As this invention might be the means of making some lucky and enterprising fellow a rich man, we with pleasure impart the information that no patent will be applied for, by the inventor!

WONT HAVE IT.-John K. Lovejoy was the very model of an independent editor, says the ever witty and excellent editor of the Sierra Citizen, while he presided over the Old Mountaineer, from which he has recently retired. His name having been announced

in that same paper, a short time ago, as an independent candidate for the Legislature, he meets the announcement of the gratuitons nomination in one of the most caustic articles (published as a card) that it has ever been our pleasure to read. It has the wholesome smack of truth which is always to be relished. We give the following extract as a specimen :

"Saul! Saul! why persecutest thou me!" What dirty trick have we been guilty of, that our old friends should wish us to sacrifice our eternal peace of mind, and what reputation we have, by going to a California Legislature, is more than we know! Shades | of Clay and Webster forgive them! We feel, however, grateful for their supposed kind intentions, and their confidence in us, but

beg leave to decline the most distinguished honor they so kindly would bestow upon us, and at the same time, in justice to ourself and them, will give a few reasons, and pray they may prove satisfactory; should they

not, we are sorry.

Were we thoroughly qualified, the people of our county are so completely joined to their idols, in the shape of party drill, that were the veriest ass in the world to receive a nomination at the hands of a "stuffed"

convention, he would be elected over us, and that would wound our pride.

We have told too many truths, during our editorial career, to be popular among party leaders of any party whatever, and the masses will follow their leaders; "my sheep know my voice, and they do follow," says the Bible, consequently we do not feel like expending the time and money we might accidentally have, in so fool-hardy an enterprise; besides this, we don't feel inclined to sacrifice our personal independence, in trotting over the county, lick-spittling for votes. Our old friend Lovejoy has been elected, notwithstanding his card, and we have no doubt but he will do his best to keep the "lick-spittling" politicians straight.

We are daily gladdened by the bright thoughts contained in our spirited exchange The Sacramento Age, and cannot resist the temptation to give to the readers of the "Social Chair" the following beautiful and truthful sentiments from its columns:

"Let us go to the West," said the young emigrant, forty years ago, when, with his young wife, he left the homestead, to try his

fortune in the "back woods," which extended from the Ohio to the Pacific Ocean. The oxen were yoked at the gate, and all his worldly effects were stowed away in the wagon box. When the Alleghanies were

passed, and he looked back and saw them stretching away like a thread across the world, and that with a strong arm and a horizon, he felt that he was alone in the sharp ax he was to hew out a fortune in the wilderness.

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Father, we are going West," said his son, twenty years after, when the yellow corn was ready for the sickle, and the school children were hastening down the lane; and then there was another parting, and the emigrant train disappeared in the woods.

A dozen years afterward the restless emigrant stopped his plow in the furrow, to toward the West; his cattie were grazing think of the vas plains stretching away on the prairie; his log cabin, nicely whitehe had planted as a shelter from the sun washed, appeared through the trees which when he grew old. His little son was playing in the furrow, and when the father looked over the farm he knew that were but a scant thought of the wide, uninhabited plains, inheritance for his poor children. Again he sloping down to the sea, beyond the Rocky Mountains, and when the sun went down he and troubled in mind. Discontent had inreturned to his log cabin silent and dejected, for him there. vaded his home, and there was no more rest

Again the emigrant went West; and thus been peopled with many hardy pioneers, have the plains of Oregon and California who keep in advance of the great tide of the restless adventurer moves farther into emigration that is rolling westward; but as the wilderness, there are others to occupy his half finished cabin.

freight of squalid poverty at the quays on When the emigrant ships unload their the Atlantic, the lumbering of engines and the whirring of machinery admonish them that there is nothing to do there; and they too exclaim, here, almost in hearing of the great western "We are going West." And ocean's surges, the immigrants still pass us, going West." "Tell us, American, where your West ?"

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is

It is away in the Polynesia, among the palm trees. Following along the tropic, or through the frozen regions of the Arctic circle, we will look for the West in the terra incognito of ocean, beyond the icy promontoWherever there is land ries of Allaska. enough to build an altar on, or free air enough to wave our country's flag, there, for a while, may be our West. But when we hear footsteps on our trail, we will go on nearer to the sepulchre of day, until our nation's track shall have been left on every island, and until our ships, with the moss of the world's waters on their keels, shall rise again from the Atlantic with the sun, and moor themselves at their points of departure."