you will have an opportunity of cross-examining the witness afterwards. (To witness)-Go on, sir. W. So I says to Henry Thomas-"Henry Thomas, my friend, you hol' my bag and make I get a drink to put in my bottle and take home to the missus." Thomas says, "Very well." So I heave down my bag off my shoulder and give it to him to hold. C. P. S. But what did the prisoner say to you? W.-Please let I make you understand good. First Magistrate (impatiently)-Yes! yes! But what did the prisoner say? W. (sullenly, having been interrupted in his narrative)-He say nothing to me, my worship! Second Magistrate-What did he call you, then? W. He called me a thief, my worship! First Magistrate-Well, tell us about that. W.-Well, my worship! I says to Henry Thomas, "Thomas, my friend, you hol' my bag-" C. P. S.-You've told us all that before. W. (with an injured air)-Hi! massa! you no let I make you understand. C. P. S. (testily)-Just tell me what the prisoner said to you. W. He said I was a thief. Prisoner-I deny the question! C. P. S.-Now give the exact words. Be careful, for I have to take them down. W. He told me I was a thief, my worship. C. P. S. (writing)—" Prisoner said to me, you are a thief." Anything else? W. And that I was too d-n fast, and I was too mannish. C. P. S. (reading)—" He further added-You are too d-n fast, you are too mannish, or words to that effect." Where did this occur? W.-Please, my worship, I'm not done. C. P. S.-Answer my question. W. This was at the cross roads, sa! At Mr. Abraham's shop. C. P. S.-Were you on the high road at the time? W. How high road, sa? C. P. S.-Queen's road, sir? W.-Hi! Yes, sa! Queen's road, to be sure. C. P. S. Many people there to hear what was going on? W.-Yes, sa! Plenty people was da (hesitatingly). C. P. S.-Were they quite near? W.-Far enough, sa! too far! (After a pause)—But not C. P. S.-What do you mean? Could they hear what was going on? W.-Hi! Yes, sa! C. P. S. (to Magistrates)-I think that's all, your worships! (To prisoner)-Do you wish to ask the witness any questions? Prisoner (to witness)-George Edwards! P.-Remember you 'pon you' oath, sa! P.-Did I an' you ever have any confusion? W. Of course we do. P.-Remember you 'pon you' oath, sa! W. (to prisoner)—Ax me questions, sa! P.-George Edwards! Last week, Monday, was you coming from you' ground? W.-To be sure, sa! P. What side you' ground is? W.-Hi! Capital cultivation, sa! It stand well. C. P. S. (to prisoner)-Go on, sir! go on, sir! P. (solemnly)-Missa Edwards! Is you a Chris tian? W.-Hi! That hab nothing to do with the question. Ax me questions, sa! P.-Answer me the question. 'pon you' oath, sa! Remember you First Magistrate (to prisoner)-Go on, sir! P. (with an air of offended dignity)-Did I call you thief? W.-To be sure you did. P. (vehemently)-I deny the question! I deny the question! I deny the question! W. (indignantly)--Don't cross-cut (interrupt) me, sa! C. P. S. (to prisoner)—Never mind. Go on with your examination. P.-Wasn' you in a beastly state of stopsication? W. My father! What is this? C. P. S. (to witness) - Answer the question. Were you in a state of intoxication? W-No, sa! Never did sich a thing! P. (to witness)-Did you have any evidence that I did use that low word to you? W. (calling to some one in court)-Hi! Susan Powell! Mrs. Powell! P.-Who and who was in present? First Magistrate (to prisoner)-Do you wish to ask the witness any more questions? W. (appealing to Magistrate)-My respectable worship C. P. S.-Hold your tongue, sir! (Addressing prisoner) Do you hear what the Magistrate asks you—“Do you wish to put any further questions to the witness?" P. (sulkily)-Don't bother asking him any more questions, for him won't speak de truth. First Magistrate (to witness) - You can stand down. Witness is retiring, when the prisoner calls to him, George Edwards, did I— First Magistrate-Call the next witness. C. P. S.-That's the case, sir! X. A BATCH OF NEGRO LOVE-LETTERS. LOVE letters have always constituted an important branch of epistolary literature. They have been the making of many a cause célèbre, the source of many a law-suit, a fruitful spring of pleasure and pain to the young, and sometimes to those old enough to know better, in every generation of the human race. We are a little too much inclined to form our ideas of negro manners and character from the burlesque representations of Christy's Minstrels and others. We are too much disposed to look upon the typical "man and brother" as a boneless, restless, grotesque creature, who wears shirt collars which reach long past his ears, and a necktie of which the bows are at least half a yard in length,—who spends his time in playing on a banjo, occasionally diversifying his pleasing occupation by dancing a breakdown, or crying "Yah! yah!" at intervals. Many of us have yet to learn that the negroes in the West Indies are an earnest work-a-day peasantry, having their own characteristic faults and vices, it is true, and dissimilar to any other peasantry in the world, but none the less real and existent. To many a little thatch-covered hut, half-hidden among broad-leaved |