A

sorbing passion, his devotion, his religion - Colonel Jack Hays, as he was universally called, was the last man to affiliate with the Whigs. His father was a devotee of General Jackson, his mother the daughter of Colonel Coffee, Jackson's most trusted comrade in war, his closest companion in peace, his chosen friend in his retirement. The Hays and Coffees were Jackson Democrats. Whig was never born in either family. Whigs might have preferred Jack Hays to Townes in that election and put his name on their tickets- and a large number of them did so- - but if the alternative with Jack Hays had been to accept the nomination for sheriff from the Whigs or to withdraw from candidacy, he would have instantly chosen the latter course. Not that he disliked Whigs, but he was unalterably opposed to Whiggery.

The Democrats had nominated Colonel J. J. Bryant, a noted man at that time, the owner of the Bryant (formerly the Ward) House, on Clay Street, and very lavish of his money. It was said that the campaign cost him above $50,000. Colonel Jack Hays arrived in San Francisco, from Texas, only a few weeks before the election. Major Caperton and John Nugent were of his party. Late in March his many friends and admirers held a public meeting in the plaza and nominated him as Independent candidate for sheriff. He was elected by an overwhelming majority. There were a great many of the Mexican War volunteers and some of the famous Texan Rangers then in San Francisco. They were enthusiastic and most energetic in his behalf. Hundreds of Democrats voted for him in preference to Bryant, who was a king of gamblers. His election was a foregone conclusion when he was nominated; but when he appeared on the day of election, mounted on his fine black charger, riding like a centaur, seated in his Texan Ranger saddle, with all of its accompaniments except holsters and pistols, the multitude went wild in admiration of him. It was an exciting scene.

The remainder of the ticket was quite equally divided between the Democrats and the Whigs, the latter electing their district attorney, Calhoun Benham, a great popular favorite; Roderick N. Morrison, the Boanerges of the bar, county judge; and G. W. Endicott, a Boston merchant, treasurer. The Democrats elected John A. McGlynn county recorder; General John E. Addison county clerk; Wm. M. Eddy county surveyor; David N. Chauncey assessor; T. J. Smith, formerly judge of the Marine Court, New York City, county attorney; Eugene H. Tharp clerk of the Supreme Court; and Edward Gallagher coroner. Of all these, Eugene H. Tharp is the only survivor. Of all the candidates on the Whig ticket, Louis R.

Lull and Wm. P. Humphreys are living. In the politics of that period, it may be remarked that party fellowship was quite generally ignored. Excepting the comparatively small number who were ambitious of office, the people were intent upon business, every one directing his energies to the accumulation of gold, bent on “making his pile.” General Taylor was President. The Federal Administration was Whig; but in California the Democrats were largely in the majority. In the first State election, November, 1849, they had elected Peter H. Burnett, then supreme judge, governor; George W. Wright and Edward Gilbert representatives in Congress; W. Van Voorees secretary of state; Major Richard Roman treasurer; J. S. Houston comptroller; Captain Charles J. Whitney surveyor general; S. C. Hastings, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court; J. A. Lyons and Nathaniel Bennett associate justices. The Whigs were John McDougal lieutenant governor; Colonel E. J. C. Kewen, attorney general. The legislature was Democratic, and elected Colonel John C. Fremont and Dr. Wm. M. Gwin, United States senators. Thos. Butler King, formerly member of Congress from Georgia, a Whig, was the formidable competitor of Gwin, and to his ardent support came Chas. G. Eames, the editor of the Pacific News, a Democrat, formerly the editor of Jonas Winchester's New York World, and subsequently editor of the Washington Union, and of the Nashville Union, both Democratic.

King was appointed collector of the Port of San Francisco by President Fillmore. He again tried for the Senate in 1851, was again defeated, (the legislature failed to elect a senator,) and soon afterwards resigned the collectorship and returned to Georgia.

The defeat of General Scott in 1852 gave the fatal blow to the Whig party; yet the Whigs of California put a ticket into the field in 1855, and it received over 36,500 votes, on the congressional ticket-Calhoun Benham and G. W. Bowieagainst 37,600, for J. W. Denver and Philip T. Herbert, Administration Democrats, and 10,000 votes for Churchman and Coffroth, Broderick Democrats. It was the last Whig ticket in California.

Other inaccuracies, although they are less material and important, are in relation to the first vigilance committee of San Francisco, the "Sydney thieves" they hanged, and the offenses for which they were condemned; and the year of the arrival in San Francisco of " Emperor " Norton. Norton had a store on the east side of Montgomery Street, between Clay and Washington Streetsthere was no Merchant street then-early in 1850, and was before Alcalde John W. Geary in March or April of that year for an assualt he committed

(From the French of Alfred de Musset.)
Yes, she was fair, if pulseless Night,
Sleeping on Angelo's couch of stone
In that far chapel's hush of light,

Can challenge Beauty's sovran throne.

Kind too she was, if it suffice

With lavish hand to scatter alms, Till charity becomes a vice,

While pity hoards its priceless balms.

She thought, if cadenced tones and low,
Like rhythmic babblings of a rill,
May argue thought's majestic flow,
And all the deeps of being fill.

She prayed, if two untroubled eyes,
Now fastened on the lowly earth,
Now lifted to the luminous skies,
Bestow on prayer its only worth.

She would have smiled, could but the flower,
Whose petals all are folded yet,
Have opened 'neath the alluring power
Of winds that woo, and then forget.

She would have wept, if but one day
Those hands, which on her breast recline,
Had felt, within our human clay,

The thrilling touch of dew divine.

She would have loved, but that her pride,
Like some wan flame, alone, apart,
Lit by the bier of one that's died,

Kept watch above her barren heart.

One who ne'er lived here lieth dead;

From life she but its semblance took,Now from her hands hath fallen the book, Its mystic lines remain unread.

Albert S. Cook.

Faith.

Gossip Moon, now prithee tell What my love on yesternight Whispered thee in love-affright: Was it well?

"Lover pale, I saw her smile, But she nothing spake aloud; So I slipped behind a cloud, Afterwhile."

Tell me, Sun, the chronicler,
As you sit on your high seat,
In her maiden-thought so sweet
What 's astir?

"Lover pale, so deep in thrall, As I watched her nigh to noon, She was humming of a tune,

That was all."

Surely, when nor Moon nor Sun
May report me of my love,
I must seize on Faith, the dove,
Till she's won.

Richard E. Burton.

For a Picture.

A thrush sings in the woods somewhereSoft warmth of mid-morn in the air.

Elise the slender and young Guy Are winding silk of deep red dye.

Elise has hair of ash-blonde hueThe boy's is shaded fairness, too;

And still in waking they both keep The look the pure have in their sleep.

Elise sees Guy, yet does not see-
"My Guy, do you know love?" says she.

The skein of silk they still undo,
"Why, cousin, yes, for I love you!"

The maid's lips part, she's far away; "Would Guy were he!" her sad eyes say. Eleanor, B. Caldwell.

Briefer Notice.

A BOOK published for the benefit of a charity, since it does not appeal to the purchaser on its merits alone, hardly comes within the purview of criticism. Of Six Weeks in Old France,' then, there is to be said that it relates the stay of a party of Americans in a French chateau, with the slenderest possible thread of a romance, and a profusion of references to French history from the times of the Carlovingians down. One amusing slip may be noted. It is found in the passage referring to "The Lady of the Lake": "Byron had just given Childe Harold to the world, when Scott, spurred on by generous rivalry, made this adventure, having only till then charmed the world by his delightful prose fictions."Another of the dear old gentlewomen of Salem has set down on paper her recollections of that charming town. Mrs. Silsbee reveals herself as unmistakably deserving the title we have given her in her pretty book, full of the pleasant garrulity that longs to bring back the past so that the people of today may share its delights.Most rightly is Mr. Harrower named, to judge from the present pamphlet3; for never has a fraud been more thoroughly raked over than are Captain Glazier and his narrative. Captain Glazier “discovered" the source of the Mississippi and posed as a greater man than De Soto. Harrower leaves nothing of his claim, and proves abundantly by the acid test of the parallel column that the valiant Captain is a literary thief.- -No modern writer succeeds so well in giving his writings the true salty flavor as Mr. Russell, and he fills his Voyage to the Cape with pleasant sea chat, questioning the various officers of the ship, spinning sea tales and "longshore twisters", and recounting the thousand and one small happenings on ship that prevent the long sea voyage from ever becoming monotonous. But though his account of life on the steamer is

'Six weeks in Old France. By L M. A. 1887. American Bureau of Foreign Travel: Albany.

2A Half Century in Salem. By M. C. D. Silsbee. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, & Co. 1887.

3Captain Glazier and his Lake. By Henry D. Harrower. New York: Ivison, Blakeman, & Co. 1886.

4A Voyage to the Cape. By W. Clark Russell. Handy Series. Harper & Bros: New York. 1886.

quite calculated to make the reader wish himself on the deck of some fine vessel, the description of South Africa is not one that will be likely to increase travel in that direction. The Dark Continent maintains its character even to the Cape of Good Hope.— Pleasantly told, there are incidents various and singular in every one's life to fill a volume of moderate size, and interest a fair number of readers. The author of Yesterdays with Actors has been an actress for over a quarter of a century,—though it is several years more than that since she made her debut at the age of four,—and she has herein narrated bits of her own career, some of her experiences of travel, and somewhat of her personal acquaintance with actors and actresses who have for the most part long ago made their exit from the stage of life. She has made a book that the people of her occupation and lovers of the stage will find readable. She is jealous of the reputation of the stage, and stands up for the morality of its occupants in the days of her successes. She depicts the arduous life of those who aspire to its honors, but finds many occasions for commending their thoughtful consideration for members of their own guild. Her experience was with the most known of the stage, and she makes mention of none without a generous bestowment of commendation for some excellence. The volume is illustrated with photo-gravures or vignettes of almost every person named therein, among whom are William Warren, Charlotte Cushman, Edwin Forrest, John Brougham, Laura Keene, E. A. Sothern, Matilda Heron, William E. Benton, Agnes Robertson, J. H. Hackett, Mrs. John Wood, Kate Bateman, John Wilkes Booth, and Mrs. Vincent, besides the author herself. The book is printed in narrow forms with broad margins holding frequent marginal summaries, each page terminating, rather exasperatingly, after the ancient manner, with the first word of the following page, which word one is thus obliged to read twice. Its press work and paper are handsome, and it is altogether commendable as a work by the new firm of publishers.

5 Yesterdays with Actors. By Catharine Mary ReignoldsWinslow. Boston: Cupples and Hurd. 1887.