LAWYER CHOPS. I am sorry, gentlemen, to have occupied your time with the stupidity of the witnesses examined. It arises, gentlemen, altogether from misapprehension on my part. Had I known, as I now do, that I had a witness in attendance, who was well acquainted with all the circumstances of the case, and who was able to make himself clearly understood by the Court and jury, I should not so long have trespassed upon your time and patience. Come forward, Mr. Harris, and be sworn.

So forward comes the witness, a fat, shuffy old man, a “leetle " corned, and took his oath with an air.

CHOPS. Harris, we wish you to tell about the riot that happened the other day at Captain Rice's; and as a good deal of time has already been wasted in circumlocution, we wish you to be compendious, and at the same time as explicit as possible.

HARRIS. Adzactly (giving the lawyer a knowing wink, and at the same time clearing his throat). Captain Rice, be gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard, she came over to our house and axed me if my wife she moutn't go. I told cousin Sally Dilliard that my wife was poorly, being as how she had a touch of rheumatics in the hip, and the big swamp was in the road, and the big swamp was up, for there had been a heap of rain lately; but, howsomever, as it was she, cousin Sally Dilliard, my wife she mout go. Well, cousin Sally Dilliard then axed me if Mose he moutn't go? I told cousin Sally Dilliard that he was the foreman of the crap, and the crap was smartly in the grass; but howsomever, as it was she, cousin Sally Dilliard, Mose mout go

CHOPS. In the name of common sense, Mr. Harris, what do you mean by this rigmarole?

WITNESS. Captain Rice, he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard she came over to our house and axed me if my wife she moutn't go. I told cousin Sally Dilliard

CHOPS. Stop, Sir, if you please; we don't want to hear any thing about your cousin Sally Dilliard and your wife-tell us about the fight at Rice's.

WITNESS. Well, I will, Sir, if you will let me.

CHOPS. Well, Sir, go on.

WITNESS. Well, Sir, Captain Rice he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard she came over to our house and axed ine if my wife she moutn't go—

COUSIN SALLY DILLIARD.

CHOPS. There it is again. Witness, please to stop.
WITNESS. Well, Sir, what do you want?

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CHOPS. We want to know about the fight, and you must.not proceed in this impertinent story. Do you know any thing about the matter before the Court?

WITNESS. To be sure I do.

CHOPS. Well, go on and tell it, and nothing else.

WITNESS. Well, Captain Rice he gin a treat

CHOPS. This is intolerable. May it please the Court, I move that this witness be committed for a contempt; he seems to be trifling with this Court.

COURT. Witness, you are now before a court of justice, and unless you behave yourself in a more becoming manner, you will be sent to jail; so begin and tell what you know about the fight at Captain Rice's.

WITNESS. [Alarmed.] Well, gentlemen, Captain Rice he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard

CHOPS. I hope the witness may be ordered into custody.

COURT. [After deliberating.] Mr. Attorney, the Court is of the opinion that we may save time by telling witness to go on in his own way. Proceed, Mr. Harris, with your story, but stick to

the point.

WITNESS. Yes, gentlemen. Well, Captain Rice he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard she came over to our house and axed me if my wife she moutn't go. I told cousin Sally Dilliard that my wife she was poorly, being as how she had the rheumatics in the hip, and the big swamp was up; but howsomever, as it was she, cousin Sally Dilliard, my wife she mout go. Well, cousin Sally Dilliard then axed if Mose he moutn't go. I told cousin Sally Dilliard as how Mose-he was the foreman of the crap, and the crap was smartly in the grass-but howsomever as it was she, cousin Sally Dilliard, Mose he mout go. So they goes on together, Mose, my wife, and cousin Sally Dilliard, and they come to the big swamp, and it was up, as I was telling you; but being as how there was a log across the big swamp, cousin Sally Dilliard and Mose, like genteel folks, they walked the log; but my wife, like a darned fool, waded through. And that's all I know about the fight.

EVENING.

THE stream is calmest when it nears the tide,
And flowers are sweetest at the eventide,
And birds most musical at close of day,
And saints divinest when they pass away.

Morning is lovely, but a holier charm
Lies folded close in Evening's robe of balm,
And weary man must ever love her best,
For Morning calls to toil, but Night to rest.

She comes from heaven, and on her wings doth bear A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer;

Footsteps of angels follow in her trace,

To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace.

All things are hushed before her as she throws
O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose;

There is a calm, a beauty, and a power,

That Morning knows not, in the evening hour.

"Until the evening" we must weep and toil,
Plough life's stern furrow, dig the weedy soil,
Tread with sad feet our rough and thorny way,
And bear the heat and burden of the day.

Oh, when our sun is setting, may we glide
Like summer evening, down the golden tide;
And leave behind us, as we pass away,
Sweet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay !

HYMN TO THE FLOWERS.-HORACE SMITH.

DAY-STARS! that ope your eyes with morn to twinkle From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation

And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle

As a libation!

HYMN TO THE FLOWERS.

Ye matin worshipers! who bending lowly
Before the uprisen sun-God's lidless eye-
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy
Incense on high!

Ye bright mosaics! that with storied beauty
The floor of Nature's temple tesselate,
What numerous emblems of instructive duty
Your forms create!

To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder,

Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply-
Its choir the wind and waves, its organ thunder,
Its dome the sky.

Your voiceless lips, O Flowers, are living preachers,
Each cup a pulpit and each leaf a book,
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers,
From loneliest nook.

"Thou wert not, Solomon! in all thy glory,
Arrayed," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours;
How vain your grandeur! Ah, how transitory
Are human flowers!"

In the sweet-scented pictures, Heavenly Artist!
With which thou paintest Nature's wide-spread hall,
What a delightful lesson thou impartest

Of love to all.

Not useless are ye, Flowers! though made for pleasure;
Blooming o'er field and wave, by day and night,
From every source your sanction bids me treasure
Harmless delight.

Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining,
Far from all voice of teachers or divines, .
My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining,
Priests, sermons, shrines!

219

THE DEATH-BED.-THOMAS HOOD.

WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life

Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seemed to speak,
So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied-
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,
And chill with early showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed-she had
Another morn than ours.

THE MAIN-TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE.

OLD IRONSIDES at anchor lay,

In the harbor of Mahon;
A dead calm rested on the bay-
The waves to sleep had gone;
When little Hal, the captain's son,
A lad both brave and good,
In sport, up shroud and rigging ran,
And on the main-truck stood!