Christ and Him crucified; now it was nothing but niggers and rum." He was good at retort. Early one Monday morning he was going home from the market, with some mackerel which he had just purchased strung upon his cane. "Mr. Milton," said some passer-by, "them mackerel was caught Sunday." "Well," was the reply, "that ain't the fishes' fault." One burden of this worthy minister's Sunday prayer, during the sessions of Congress and of the State legislature, was, "Counsel our councillors, and teach our senators wisdom." By many of the stronger faith of an elder day, his fervent supplications were believed to exercise a specific influence upon the atmosphere, particularly in bringing needed rain at a dry time. I have often heard it said, after the drought had continued a good while,--"Well, Milton has prayed for rain and now we shall have it." This reminds me of an anecdote appropriate to the topic, in that very entertaining book, Dean Ramsay's "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character." At one time when the crops were much laid by continuous rains, and wind was earnestly desired in order to restore them to a condition fit for the sickle,--"A minister," he says, "in his Sabbath services expressed their wants in prayer, as follows: 'O Lord, we pray thee to send us wind, no a rantin' tantin,' tearin' wind, but a noohin', (noughin?) soughin', winnin' wind.'" In like manner, I have heard of a prayer preferred by a somewhat simple New Englander, who was overheard offering his petition behind a clump of bushes in a field: "O Lord, I want a new coat--good cloth--none of your coarse, flimsy, slimsy, sleazy kind of stuff, but a good piece of thick, warm, comfortable broadcloth--such as Bill Hale wears."