a man in a coach may be said to run away with the horses; therefore, my lord, how can we punish what is not punishable? How can we eat what is not eatable? Or, how can we drink what is not drinkable? Or, as the law says, how can we think what is not thinkable? Therefore, my lord, as we are counsel in this cause for the bull, if the jury should bring the bull in guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull."

The counsel for the boat observed that the bull should be nonsuited; because, in his declaration, he had not specified what color he was of; and thus wisely and thus learnedly spoke the counsel: "My lord, if the bull was of no color, and he must be of some color; so, if he was not of any color, what color could the bull be of?"

I overruled this motion myself, by observing that the bull was a white bull, and that white is no color; besides, as I told my brethren, they should not trouble their heads to talk of color in law, for the law can color anything.

This cause being afterwards left to a reference upon the award, both bull and boat were acquitted, it being proved that the tide of the river carried them both away; upon which I gave it as my opinion, that, as the tide of the river carried both bull and boat away, both bull and boat had a good action against the water-bailiff.

My opinion being taken, an action was issued; and, upon the traverse, this point of law arose: How, wherefore, and whether, why, when, what, whatsoever, whereas and whereby, as the boat was not a compos mentis evidence, how could an oath be administered?

That point was soon settled by Boatum's attorney declaring, that, for his client, that is, loco clientis, he would swear anything.

The water-bailiff's charter was then read, taken out of the original record, in true law Latin; which set forth that, in their declaration, they must specify that they were carried away either by the tide of flood, or by the tide of

ebb. The charter of the water-bailiff was as follows: Aqua-bailiffus est magistratus in chiefus super omtribus fishibus qui habent finnos, scalos, claws, shells, et tailos, qui swimmuent in freshibus velsaltibus riveris, lakis, pondis, canalibus et well-boats; sive oysteri, surimpi, trouti, lobsteri, shaddi flounderi; that is, not shad alone, but shad and flounders both together.

But now comes the nicety of the law; the law is as nice as a new-laid egg, and not to be understood by addleheaded people. Bullum and Boatum mentioned both ebb and flood, to avoid quibbling; but it being proved that they were carried away neither by the tide of flood nor by the tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they were nonsuited.

But such was the lenity of the Court, upon their paying all the costs, they were allowed to begin de novo, as aforesaid, substantially in the manner and with the like privileges as above mentioned, and without prejudice, as set forth in the aforesaid indictments and the pleadings thereto. And to all this did they in the place and at the time as aforesaid, thereunto set their hands and their seals, very earnestly, very learnedly, very vindictively— but, oh! where did it end?

TERPSICHORE IN THE FLAT CREEK QUARTERS. From Scribner's Monthly.

Listen when I call de figgers! Watch de music es you go! Chassay forrard! (Now look at 'em! some too fas' an' some too slow!)

Step out when I gibs de order; keep up eben wid de line;

What's got in dem lazy niggers? Stop dat stringin' out behin'! All go forrard to de center! Balance roun' and den go back! Keep on in de proper 'rection, right straight up an' down de crack! Moobe up sides an' mind de music; listen when you hear me speak!

(Jes' look at dem Pea Ridge niggers, how dey's buckin' 'gin de Creek!)

Dat's de proper action, Sambo! den you done de biznis right! Now show 'em how you knocked de splinters at de shuckin t'udder night.

Try to do your lebbel bes', an' stomp it like you use to do!

Jes' come down on de "Flat Creek step" an' show de Ridge a thing or two!

Now look at dat limber Jonah triyin' to tech de fancy fling! (Who ebber seed a yaller nigger dat could cut de pidgin-wing?) Try dat lick agin, dar, Moses; tell you what, dat's hard to beat! (How kin sich a little nigger handle sich a pile o' feet?) Swing your corners! Turn your pardners!

gittin' slow.)

('Pears de motion's

What's de matter wid de music? Put some rosgum on dat bow! Moobe up, Tom-don't be so sleepy! Let 'em see what you kin do!

Light off in de "gra'-vine-twis" an' knock de "double-shuffle," too!

Gosh! that double-j'inted Steben flings a hifalutin hoof!

He kicks de dus' plum out de planks an' jars de shingles on de roof!

Steady, now, an' check de motion! Let the fiddler stop de chune! I smell de possum froo de crack, an' supper's gwine to call you soon!

De white folks come it mighty handy, waltzin' 'roun' so nice an'

fine;

But when you come to reg'lar dancin', niggers leabes 'em way behin'!

THAT AMATEUR FLUTE.

From the Boston Transcript.
Hear the fluter with his flute,
Silver flute!

Oh, what a world of wailing is awakened by its toot!
How it demi-semi-quavers,

On the maddened air of night!
And defieth all endeavors
To escape the sound or sight
Of the flute, flute, flute,

With its tootle, tootle, toot.

With reiterated tootings of exasperated toots,
The long protracted tootlings of agonizing toot,
Of the flute, flute, flute, flute,

Flute, flute, flute,

And the wheezings and the spittings of its toots.

Should he get that other flute-
Golden flute-

Oh, what a deeper anguish will its presence institoot!
How his eyes to Heaven he'll raise

As he plays

All the days!

How he'll stop us on our ways
With its praise!

And the people-oh, the people!
That don't live up in the steeple,
But inhabit Christian parlors
Where he visiteth and plays—
Where he plays, plays, plays
In the cruelest of ways,
And thinks we ought to listen,
And expects us to be mute,

Who would rather have the earache
Than the music of his flute-

Of his flute, flute, flute,

And the tootings of its toot

Of the toots wherein he tooteleth his agonizing toot Of the fluet, fluit, floot,

Phlute, phlewt, phlewght,

And the tootle-tootle-tooting of his toot.

THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.

He lay upon his dying bed,

His eyes were growing dim,

WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.

When with a feeble voice he called
His weeping son to him.

"Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
"I bow to Heaven's high will,
But quickly from yon antlers bring
The Sword of Bunker Hill."

The sword was brought; the soldier's eyes
Lit with a sudden flame,

And as he grasped the ancient blade,

He murmured Warren's name.

Then said: "My boy, I leave you gold,

But what is better still,

I leave you, mark me, mark me now,
The Sword of Bunker Hill.

""Twas on that dread, immortal day
We dared the British band,
A captain raised this sword on me,
I tore it from his hand.

And as the awful battle raged,

It lightened Freedom's will;

Fer, boy, the God of Freedom blessed
The Sword of Bunker Hill.

"O keep the sword, and should the foe
Again invade our land,

My soul will shout from Heaven to see
It flame in your right hand;

For 'twill be double sacrilege

If where sunk tyrant-ill

Power dare to strike Man's rights won by
The Sword of Bunker Hill.

"O keep the sword; you know what's in
The handle's hollow there: