University of Virginia Library

A PAGE FROM A CALIFORNIAN ALMANAC.

AT the instance of several friends who
feel a boding anxiety to know beforehand
what sort of phenomena we
may expect the elements to exhibit during the
next month or two, and who have lost all confidence
in the various patent medicine almanacs,
because of the unaccountable reticence of
those works concerning the extraordinary event
of the 8th inst., I have compiled the following
almanac expressly for the latitude of San Francisco:

Oct. 17.—Weather hazy; atmosphere murky
and dense. An expression of profound melancholy
will be observable upon most countenances.

Oct. 18.—Slight earthquake. Countenances
grow more melancholy.

Oct. 19.—Look out for rain. It would be absurd

to look in for it. The general depression
of spirits increased.

Oct. 20.—More weather.

Oct. 21.—Same.

Oct. 22.—Light winds, perhaps. If they blow,
it will be from the “east'ard, or the nor'ard, or
the west'ard, or the suth'ard,” or from some
general direction approximating more or less
to these points of the compass or otherwise.
Winds are uncertain — more especially when
they blow from whence they cometh and whither
they listeth. N. B.—Such is the nature of winds.

Oct. 23.—Mild, balmy earthquakes.

Oct. 24.—Shaky.

Oct. 25.—Occasional shakes, followed by light
showers of bricks and plastering. N. B.—
Stand from under!

Oct. 26.—Considerable phenomenal atmospheric
foolishness. About this time expect
more earthquakes; but do not look for them,
on account of the bricks.

Oct. 27.—Universal despondency, indicative
of approaching disaster. Abstain from smiling,
or indulgence in humorous conversation,
or exasperating jokes.

Oct. 28.—Misery, dismal forebodings, and

despair. Beware of all light discourse—a joke
uttered at this time would produce a popular
outbreak.

Oct. 29.—Beware!

Oct. 30.—Keep dark!

Oct. 31.—Go slow!

Nov. 1.—Terrific earthquake. This is the
great earthquake month. More stars fall and
more worlds are slathered around carelessly
and destroyed in November than in any other
month of the twelve.

Nov. 2.—Spasmodic but exhilarating earthquakes,
accompanied by occasional showers of
rain and churches and things.

Nov. 3.—Make your will.

Nov. 4.—Sell out.

Nov. 5.—Select your “last words.” Those
of John Quincy Adams will do, with the addition
of a syllable, thus: “This is the last of
earthquakes.”

Nov. 6.—Prepare to shed this mortal coil.

Nov. 7.—Shed!

Nov. 8.—The sun will rise as usual, perhaps;
but if he does, he will doubtless be staggered
some to find nothing but a large round hole eight
thousand miles in diameter in the place where he
saw this world serenely spinning the day before.