erican People could fail to express himself clearly
even in Hebrew if he takes it into his cute head to speak that ancient
but highly respectable language. Our Yankee friend, however, would not
allow the poor fellow even the excuse of stupidity, but declared that
he only "played possum from sheer _ugliness_." "Why," he added, in
relating the circumstance, "the cross old rascal pretended not to
understand his own language, though I said as plainly as possible,
'Senor, sabe mi horso vamos poco tiempo?' which, perhaps you don't
know," he proceeded to say, in a benevolent desire to enlighten our
ignorance and teach us a little Castilian, "means, 'Sir, I have lost my
horse; have you seen it?'" I am ashamed to acknowledge that we did
_not_ know the above-written Anglo-Spanish meant _that_! The honest
fellow concluded his story by declaring (and it is a common remark with
uneducated Americans) with a most self-glorifying air of _pity_ for the
poor Spaniards, "They ain't kinder like _eour_ folks," or, as that
universal Aunt Somebody used so expressively to observe, "Somehow, they
ain't _folksy_!"

The mistakes made on the other side are often quite as amusing. Dr.
Canas related to us a laughable anecdote of a countryman of his, with
whom he happened to camp on his first arrival in San Francisco. None of
the party could speak a word of English, and the person referred to, as
ignorant as the rest, went out to purchase bread, which he procured by
laying down some money and pointing to a loaf of that necessary edible.
He probably heard a person use the words "some bread," for he rushed
home, Canas said, in a perfect burst of newly acquired wisdom, and
informed his friends that he had found out the English for "pan," and
that when they wished any of that article they need but enter a
bakeshop and utter the word "sombrero" in order to obtain it! His
hearers were delighted to know _that_ much of the _infernal lengua_,
greatly marveling, however, that the same word which meant "hat" in
Castilian should mean "bread" in English. The Spaniards have a saying
to the following effect: "Children speak in Italian, ladies speak in
French, God speaks in Spanish, and the Devil speaks in English."

I commenced this letter with the intention of telling you about the
weary, weary storm, which has not only thrown a damp over our spirits,
but has saturated them, as it has everything else, with a deluge of
moisture. The storm king commenced his reign