AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
407 
from north, northwest and west, and mostly 
light. The hi ns were covered with flowers. 
March was mostly a pleasant month, with 
several moderate rains towards the middle and 
three days of heavy rain in the last week. The 
prevailing winds were from west, northwest 
and north, with an increasing tendency to west, 
and increasing force. The minimum tempera¬ 
ture was 41, and the maximum 77; mean at 
sunrise 49)- and at noon 62. The first week 
of the month was very warm. On the 15th, 
Mount Diablo was covered with snow, as mostly 
happens towards the end of March. 
April was a pleasant month, with winds gen¬ 
erally from West and Northwest, and frequent 
light sea-breezes. Temperature agreeable, vary¬ 
ing from 46 to 56 at sunrise, and from 59 to 75 
at noon ; means at sunrise and noon 52 and 65. 
The heaviest rain for several years fell on the 
night of the 16th, viz., upwards of three inches 
in twelve hours. The only thunder of the season 
occurred during this rain. 
May was generally warm and pleasant, the 
coldest morning being 47 and the warmest 62, 
while the coldest noon was 61 and the warmest 
81. The means at sunrise and noon were 53|- 
and 68 . The wind settled in the western quar¬ 
ter, and increased in force, though not offen¬ 
sively high. There were several slight rains, 
with a large portion of cloudy and broken 
weather. 
June was uncommonly warm, the mercury 
ranging from 49 to 60 at sunrise, and from 60 
to 87 at noon. The sea-winds were constant, 
but not often fraught with mist. The sky was 
unusually clear for summer. 
The weather of July was uniform, varying 
in temperature at sunrise from 50 to 55, and 
at noon from 63 to 78. The means at sunrise 
and noon were 52-J- and 68 . Cloudy and 
misty weather prevailed, and there were but 
four days of clear sky from sunrise to sunset. 
August was a cloudy and misty month, but 
less so than July. Its temperature also was 
very uniform, ranging at sunrise from 51 to 
56, and at noon from 63 to 76. The means 
at sunrise and noon were 53 and 67. The sea- 
winds, though constant, were not often high. 
September was rather pleasant, affording one 
or two days really hot. The morning extremes 
were 50 and 60, and the noon extremes 63 and 
88 . The sea-winds continued their daily visits 
with diminished force, and there was much 
cloudy and broken weather, with two small 
rains near the middle of the month. The means 
at sunrise and noon were 55 and 70. 
October was, as usual, warmer than several 
of the previous months. The coldest morning 
was 49, and the warmest 64; the coldest noon 
60, and the warmest 85. The means at sunrise 
and noon were 54£ and 71. During this 
month, the sea-winds began to give out. The 
sky was generally fair, and one slight rain fell. 
November placed the usual embargo on the 
sea-winds. The temperature was moderate, a 
few slight frosts occurring. The coldest morn¬ 
ing was 44 and the warmest 73. The means at 
sunrise and noon were 51 and 63. There were 
much cloudy weather, with occasional moderate 
rains. The prevailing winds were from west to 
south. 
December was more pleasant than common. 
The coldest morning was 40, and the warmest 
54; the coldest 11004 50, and the warmest 69. 
The means at sunrise and noon were 46) and 
57£. Hoar frosts were frequent, but the cold 
was not sufficient to injure vegetation. There 
was much fair weather. A copious rain fell on 
the 10 th, and several light rains at other times. 
Prevailing winds from north, northwest, north¬ 
east and south. Thunder was heard on the 10th, 
for the second time in the year. 
The summing up for the year 1853 exhibits 
a mean temperature' of 51£ at sunrise, and 65 
at noon, which is warmer by two degrees than 
either 1851 or 1852. The lowest mark reached 
by the mercury was 40—or eight degrees above 
the freezing point. The extreme of heat was 
88 . In 1352, the extreme were 35 and 98; in 
1851, 30 and 84; and in December 1850, the 
thermometer fell as low as 28. The amount of 
rain in each month of 1853, was, in round num¬ 
bers, as follows; January, on eight days, 4 
inches; February, four days, 1 inch ; March, 
six days, 5 inches; April, eight days, 5inches; 
May, three days, J- inch; June, July and August, 
none; September, two days, inch; October, 
one day 1-10 inch; November, eight days, 1-) 
inches; December, six days, 2 inches; making 
in the year, forty-four days on which rain fell, 
to the depth of 19 inches. In 1851, there was 
rain on fifty-three days, quantity 15 inches; in 
1852, on sixty days, quantity 25)- inches. From 
the 1st of January, 1853, to the dry season, the 
quantity was 16) inches; and from the dry 
season to the end of the year, 3) inches. The 
last rain of the Spring was May 24th, and the 
first of the Autumn and September, 15th. The 
hills began to look green in the last week of 
November, and at the close of the year at least 
thirty species of plants were in bloom around 
the city, some of them the lingering flowers of 
Summer, and a few the products of a new 
growth. There were two small specimens of 
thunder during the year, none of the aurora 
borealis, and a considerable sprinkling of meteors 
in the second week of August, and also in the 
fourth week of November .—San Francisco 
Herald. 
QUANDARIES. 
Knocking at the wrong door, and hesitating 
whether you shall run away and say nothing 
about it, or stay and apologize. 
Crossing the road until you reach the middle, 
when you perceive a gig coming one way and a 
cab another; so that if you move on you are 
sure to be knocked down by one, and if you 
stand still you may possibly be crushed by 
both. 
Finding yourself in a damp bed on a cold 
night; and cogitating whether you will lie still 
and catch your death, or get up and dress, and 
pass the night on two cane-bottomed chairs. 
Paying your addresses to a penniless fair one 
under the impression that she is an heiress; 
and, on discovering your error, having the 
option of marrying the young lady or of being 
shot by the young lady’s brother. 
Dining at a friend's house, where you must 
either drink wine till you become intoxicated, or 
refrain till you become disagreeable. 
Coming to four cross roads, one of which you 
must take at random, or just walk back a mile 
or two and inquire your way. 
Being blandly informed by a surgeon that you 
can either have your leg amputated, or leave it 
alone and die in a few days. 
Finding yourself “ called outfighting and 
being called an ass, or declining, and being 
stigmatized as a coward. ' 
Seeing a man by your bedside in the middle 
of the night; so that you may either smother 
yourself with the bedclothes, or allow him to do 
it with a plaister.— Diogenes. 
A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss. —Wei 
what of that? Who wants to be a mossy old 
stone, aivay in some damp corner of a pasture, 
where sunshine and fresh air never come, for 
the cows to rub themselves against, and for 
snails and bugs to crawl over, and for toads to 
squat under among poisonons weeds ? 
It is far better to be a smooth and polished 
stone, rolling along the brawling stream of hu¬ 
man life, wearing off the rough corners and 
bringing out the firm crystalline structure of the 
granite or the delicate veins of the agate or the 
chalcedony. 
It is this perpetual" chafing and rubbing in 
the whirling current that shows what sort of a 
grit a man is made of, and what use he is good 
for. The sandstone and soapstone are soon 
ground down to sand and mud, the firm rock is 
selected for the towering fortress, and the dia¬ 
mond is cut and polished for the monarch’s 
crown.— IT. Y, Tribune. 
Wooldn’t Contend. —A cross-grained, surly 
man, too crooked by nature to keep still, went 
over one morning to his neighbor, Mr. F., a re¬ 
markably cool, calm non-resistant, and address¬ 
ed him thus: 
“ That piece of fence over there (pointing in a 
certain direction,) is mine, and you shan’t have 
it.” 
“Why,” replied Mr. F., “you must be mis¬ 
taken, I think.” 
“ No, no, it’s mine, and I shall keep it.” 
“ Well,” said neighbor F., “ supposo we leave 
it to any lawyer you shall choose.” 
“ I won’t leave it to any lawyer,” said the 
other. 
“Well,” continued Mr. F., “shall we leave it 
to any four men in the village that you shall 
select?” 
“No, I shall have the fence.” 
Not at all discomposed, Mr. F. said, 
“ Well, neighbor, then I will leave it to you 
whom the fence belongs to; whether you, or 
myself.” 
Struck dumb by this appeal, the wrathy man 
turned away, “ convicted by his own conscience,” 
saying “ I won’t have any thing to do with a 
man that won’t contend for Ms rights." 
Elder Knapp occasionally gets off a good thing 
notwithstanding his bad ones. He was one 
evening speaking of the prevailing tendencies of 
some religionists to long prayers, and remarked 
that we would find no example for these in the 
Scriptures. The prayers of our Saviour were 
short ahd to the point. The prayer of the pen¬ 
itent publican was a happy specimen. When 
Peter was endeavoring to walk upon the waters 
to meet his master, and was about sinking, had 
his supplication been as long as the introduction 
to one of our modern prayers, before he had got 
half through he would have been fifty feet under 
water. 
- e i . — 
Beautiful. —Here is a beautiful sentence from 
the pen of Coleridge. Nothing can be more 
eloquent, nothing more true : 
Call not that man wretched who, whatever 
else he suffers, as to pain inflicted or pleasure 
denied, has a child for whom he hopes and on 
whom he doats. Poverty may grind him to the 
dust, obscurity may cast its mantle over him; 
his voice may be unheeded by those among 
whom he dwells and he may be unknown by 
his neighbors—even pain may rack his joints, 
and sleep flee from his pillow, but he has a gem 
with which he could not part for wealth defying 
computation, for fame filling a world’s ear, for 
the highest power, for the sweetest sleep that 
ever fell on mortal’s eye. 
— — ♦-»«.—— 
Not Bad. —In the New- Yorlc Independent we 
find the following from a mother : 
“ But did I tell you what a time I had with 
my little Joe?” 
“ No; what was it?” 
“ Why; I was showing him the picture of the 
martyrs thrown to the lions, and was talking 
very solemnly to him, trying to make him feel 
what a terrible thing it was. ‘ Ma!’ said he, all 
at once, ‘ Oh ma! just look at the poor little lion 
way behind there, he wont get any.’ ” 
Sad Fate of two Reporters. —The editor of 
a journal published in Antwerp sent a reporter 
to Brussels for the King’s speech, aud with him 
a couple of carrier pigeons to take back the 
document. At Brussels he gave the pigeons in 
charge to a waiter, and called for breakfast. 
He was kept waiting some time, but a very deli¬ 
cate fricassee atoned for the delay. After break¬ 
fast he paid his bill, and called for his carrier 
pigeons. “ Pigeons,” exclaimed the waiter, 
“ why, you have eaten them!” 
Awful Responsibility. —Susan Nipper says 
that the Russians have an awful responsibility 
resting on them for killing the Turks—fox every 
Turk who is killed leaves a dozen widows. 
