and I'se 'fraid I'm a leetle late." I inquired if the preacher was a man of power. He said, "I don't know him mesef, he comes from de Indian River parts, but I hear he is de giftedest man in de State." I thought I would not lose the opportunity of hearing so distinguished a pulpit orator, and went along with the old man. The preacher sat upon some elevated boards, as black a negro as ever departed from "Afric's sunny fountains." He rose, and in a loud strident tone stumbled slowly, and with many mistakes, through a chapter of Jeremiah, after which the congregation, some with sweetness, and some with scalplifting harshness, sung several verses of a hymn, the chorus of which was:

"Ye darters of Jerusalem come out de wilderness,
Come out de wilderness, come out de wilderness;
Ye darters of Jerusalem come out de wilderness
A leanin' on de lamb."

The minister then prayed, first loudly, then earnestly, and then tumultuously for a quarter of an hour, beseeching the Lord, among other things, "to unloose his stammering tongue and gib his voice a heep of power." After another hymn came the sermon, and although I took no notes, I will try and give you some specimen bricks of the structure.

My tex is de 10th ob Matthew, at the 30th verse: “But de very hars of yer hed are all numbered." I hope before I gits fro to bring some sinner ter whar I was fetched ter at a meeting like dis. It is fourteen years ago last month sense I quit grubbing in the palmetto stubble of sin, and begun workin' in de deep loam of righteousness. Fore den I use ter be as lost a sinner as any nigger on de Indian River. Dere warnt no boy in de gang (if I do say it) that could swar more, chaw more terbacker, drink more whiskey, or jerk a chicken off de roost wid less noise dan I could. I use ter loaf mos' all day, and prowl all night shore.

One night I went to 'vival meetin' jess for fun and ter see de girls. At first I laffed to hear de brudders and sisters 'spress their feelins, but de preacher had de power ob de sperrit mos' remarkable, and as he het wid his emotions I begun to get kinder skeered. Then I felt sorter creeps run all ober me, and I thort de shakes was comin' on, but then I knew I hadent been exposed and it warn't time ob de year for dem, and like a streek ob lightnin' it came ober me dat I was gettin' religion. I commenced ter holler, "Glory hallelujah, glory ter God, I'm comin'!" and got down on ter my knees and hollered more, and den I rolled on de floor and flung out my arms and my legs and kicked and stamped, fer I knew ter spirit ob de Lord was restlin' wid de debbil, and I yelled to de debbil, "git outer dis yere chile," and finally I fainted clean dun gone away. When I came ter myself de brudders and sisters was strokin' me and sayin', he is saved, de Lord hab save him, and I felt quiet and soothin' as tho' I war drinkin' buttermilk, and den I know dat my mortle soul was safe on de top shelf whar de debbil couldn't nebber reach it no more. De nex' mornin' I fine dat I hab lost my jackknife and broke de mainspring ter my watch, besides leavin' a good ombreller in de seat which some Christian brudder or sister has took care on sence I s'pose, as I hab nebber scene it again, but I didn't car. I win more dan I lose, fer I got religion dat night.

WALT WHITMAN'S WAIL.

After Walt Whitman emerged from the last Polar wave, and had thawed the icicles from his frozen brain, he is said to have exclaimed:

I howl a whoop;

And with the howlment of the whoop I yip a yawp,

And with a million chill-betingled veins I bow me to the winter's

sovereignty;

O bitesome breeze! O quakesome waves! and all conglomerate elements of gelid things!

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

C. C. MOORE.

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,—
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below;
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys,-and St. Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,- —a right jolly old elf;
And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle; But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

BULLUM VERSUS BOATUM.

STEVENS.

Law is law; law is law; and as in such and so forth and hereby, and aforesaid, provided always, nevertheless, notwithstanding. Law is like a country-dance: people are let up and down in it till they are tired. Law is like a book of surgery: there are a great many desperate cases in it. It is also like physic: they that take least of it are

best off. Law is like a homely gentlewoman: very well to follow. Law is also like a scolding wife: very bad when it follows us. Law is like a new fashion: people are bewitched to get into it; it is also like bad weather: most people are glad when they get out of it.

We shall now mention a cause, called "Bullum versus Boatum;" it was a cause that came before me. The cause was as follows:

There were two farmers, farmer A and farmer B. Farmer A was seized or possessed of a bull; farmer B was seized or possessed of a ferryboat.

Now the owner of the ferryboat, having made his boat fast to a post on shore with a piece of hay, twisted ropefashion, or as we say, vulgo vocato, a hay-band. After he had made his boat fast to a post on shore-as it was very natural for a hungry man to do—he went up town to dinner. Farmer A's bull-as it was very natural for a hungry bull to do—came down town to look for a dinner, and, observing, discovering, seeing, and spying out sundry turnips in the bottom of the ferryboat, the bull scrambled into the ferryboat; he ate up the turnips, and, to make an end of his meal, fell to work upon the hay-band; the boat, being eaten from its moorings, floated down the river with the bull in it. It struck against a rock, beat a hole in the bottom of the boat, and tossed the bull overboard; whereupon, the owner of the bull brought his action against the boat for running away with the bull; and the owner of the boat brought his action against the bull for running away with the boat, and thus notice of trial was given, Bullum versus Boatum, Boatum versus Bullum.

Now, the counsel for the bull began with saying: "My lord, and you, gentlemen of the jury, we are counsel in this cause for the bull. We are indicted for running away with the boat. Now, my lord, we have heard of running horses, but never of running bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull could no more run away with the boat than