to gain,
Chased by gunboats or lost in rain?
Many a night they try the ferry
And the days in haggard sleep employ,
But every raft, or float, or wherry,
Drifts up the tide to Nanjemoy.

"Ho! John, we shall have no more annoy,
We've crossed the river from Nanjemoy.
The bluffs of Virginny their shadows reach
To hide our landing upon the beach!"
Repelled from the manse to hide in the barn,
The sick wretch hears, like a far-away horn,
As he lies on the straw by the snoring boy,
The winding echo of "N-a-n-j-e-m-o-y."
All day it follows, all night it whines,
From the suck of waters, the moan of pines,
And the tread of cavalry following after,
The flash of flames on beam and rafter,
The shot, the strangle, the crash, the swoon,
Scarce break his trance or disturb the croon
Of the meaningless notes on his lips which fasten,
And the soldier hears, as he seeks to convoy
The dying words of the dark assassin,
A wandering murmur, like "Nanjemoy."

THE FALL OF UTIE.

The reception at Secretary Flake's was at its height. Bland Van, the
President of the nation, had departed with his boys; the punch-bowl
had been emptied nine times; and still the cry from our republican
society was, "Fill up!"

A pair of young men, unacquainted with each other, pressed at the same
time to the punch-bowl, and Jack, the chief ladler, turning from the
younger, a clerk in civil dress, helped the elder, a tall naval
officer, to a couple of glasses. The clerk, young Utie, who was
somewhat flushed, addressed the chief ladler and remarked:

"You dam nigger, didn't you see my glass?"

"See it, sah? Yes! I've seen it seval times afo, dis evening."

Black Jack then received the current allowance of curses for his color
and his impudence, all of which he took meekly, till the officer,
Lieutenant Dibdo, interrupted on the negro's behalf.

"It's none o' yo affair, I reckon!" cried Utie sullenly.

"The man had no intention of slighting you," said Dibdo. "You have
been drinking too much, boy, and your coarseness is coming out."

A fresh crowd of thirsty people pressing up at this point gave Jack
his opportunity to cry: "Room around de punch-bowl!"

And the disputants were separated and squeezed by the promenading
tides into different rooms.

The officer presently forgot all about it, but not so young Utie, who
was partly drunk, entirely vain,