running horses, but never of running bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull could no more run away with the boat than 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 on what is not thinkable? Therefore, my lord, as we are 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 non-suited, because, in his declaration, he had not specified what color he was of; for thus wisely, and thus learnedly, spoke the counsel: "My lord, if the bull was of no color, he must be of some color; and, if he was not of any color, what color could the bull be of?" I overruled this motion myself by observing the bull was a white bull, and that white was no color; besides, as I told my brethren, they should not trouble their heads to talk of color in the law, for the law can color anything. This cause being afterward left to a reference, upon the award, both bull and boat were acquitted, it being proved that 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, and 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, he would swear anything. The water-bailiff's charter was then read, takep out of the original record in true law Latin; which set forth in their declaration, that they were carried away either by the tide of flood or the tide of ebb. The charter of the water-bailiff was as follows: "Aquæ bailiffi est magistratus in choisi, sapor omnibus fishibus qui habuerunt finos et scalos, claws, shells, et talos, qui swimmare in freshibus, vel saltibus riveris, lakos, pondis, canalibus, et well-boat, sive oysteri, prawni whitini, shrimpi, turbutos solus;" that is, not turbots alone, but turbots and soles 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 addle-headed people. Bullum and Boatum mentioned both ebb and flood to avoid quibbling; but it being proved that they were carried away neither by tide of flood, nor by the tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they were non-suited; but such was the lenity of the court, upon their paying all costs, they were allowed to begin again, de novo.-STEVENS. SONG OF THE WINTER WINDS. OH, what is the song that the winter winds sing, As earth they are robing with snows that they bring From the crystalline realms of the stern ice-king? "Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor!" Adown the dark street they are rushing along, They, determinate, shout the words of their song, 66 They rattle the shutters of the rich millionaire, They part the white curtains, and hover beside Have ye not heard it, this song born of love, "The poor ye have always," let love then prevail, Because they are poor, because they are poor. Is this the glad song that the winter winds sing WILLIAM M. CLARK, JEAN ANDERSON, MY JOY, JEAN. EAN ANDERSON, my joy, Jean, JEAN Just lay your loof in mine, An' let us talk thegither O' the days of auld lang syne. An' death is drawin' near. 'Tis growin' hard for baith to see, Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, That toddlin' roun' did go. An' I was but a child, Jean, Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, To keep the gowden rule; For us to gang our lane, and pluck Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, Your e'en were like the sky, Jean, As gentle and as blue; An' oh, your trustfu', wifely touch, Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, Our bairns, they too are grown; An' roun' the cheerfu' ingle, Have wee things o' their own: Three lives, I think, we've lived, Jean, Our ain, our bairnies', and their bairns'- Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, An', though I'm dull o' hearin', I seem to catch its soun'; Up which we baith shall mount to God, Jean Anderson, my joy, Jean, It makes cauld bluid leap warm, J. E. RANKIN. THE MODERN CAIN. "AMI my brother's keeper ?” Long ago, When first the human heart-strings felt the touch |