hman and a nigger would be particularly interesting. I
was about to turn my footsteps homeward, when the movements of an
individual attracted my attention. The person in question was a
gentleman of about forty-five years of age. His height was fully six
feet, his form was very spare, his face thin, his nose sharp and
prominent, his eyes and hair grey, and his face closely shaven,
wrinkled, and sallow. He was dressed in a plain black dress-coat and
pants, of a style about three years old. His vest was of black satin,
his shirt-bosom was scrupulously white; a black silk choker was tightly
enveloped about his neck, above which peered a diminutive collar, which,
when it was put on, was without doubt a standing-collar, but the starch
had not been made of such a consistency as to render it consistent for
the collar to stand up against the unstiffening effects of a hot day's
sweating. As I saw him, he was coming down the street at a rapid rate,
describing all sorts of geometrical figures on the sidewalk, and making
efforts to sing the words of "Yankee Doodle" to the tune of "Old
Hundred." Whenever he ran against an awning-post, he would stop, and
expostulate with the post for its want of civility, and would insist
that the post had never been born and bred in the St. Lawrence country,
or it would have shown more politeness to strangers. He was entirely
unable to account for the sudden revolutions of the earth, which made
day and night follow each other in such quick succession. When he ran
against a lamp-post, he would look up to the light and insist that it
was dinner-time, and would wonder why the old woman didn't blow the
horn. At that moment a policeman came along, and was going to take him
into custody. On observing the policeman's uniform, he inquired of him
whether he was a 'Merican or British soger, and whether the Russians had
whipped Nicholas, and whether Cuba had begun to bombard General Pierce
at Sebastopol. I knew the officer very well, and he suggested that as
the man seemed to be quite respectable in his appearance, it might be
well to take him to a hotel for the night. I volunteered to do this, and
accordingly took him under my care. On going down, he asked me if I was
a karvern teeper, as he wanted to take a drink of bed, and then go to
sleep on a blass of grandy. I told him I was, and would see him put to
bed all right. On asking him his name, I learned that he was Deacon
Josiah Pettingill, of St. Lawrence coun