of the "Death of Nelson"; and it was odd and eerie to hear the chorus breathe feebly from all sorts of dark corners, and "this day has done his dooty" rise and fall and be taken up again in this dim _inferno_, to an accompaniment of plunging, hollow-sounding bows and the rattling spray-showers overhead. All seemed unfit for conversation; a certain dizziness had interrupted the activity of their minds; and except to sing they were tongue-tied. There was present, however, one tall, powerful fellow of doubtful nationality, being neither quite Scotsman nor altogether Irish, but of surprising clearness of conviction on the highest problems. He had gone nearly beside himself on the Sunday, because of a general backwardness to indorse his definition of mind as "a living, thinking substance which cannot be felt, heard, or seen"--nor, I presume, although he failed to mention it, smelt. Now he came forward in a pause with another contribution to our culture. "Just by way of change," said he, "I'll ask you a Scripture riddle. There's profit in them too," he added ungrammatically. This was the riddle-- C and P Did agree To cut down C; But C and P Could not agree Without the leave of G. All the people cried to see The crueltie Of C and P. Harsh are the words of Mercury after the songs of Apollo! We were a long while over the problem, shaking our heads and gloomily wondering how a man could be such a fool; but at length he put us out of suspense and divulged the fact that C and P stood for Caiaphas and Pontius Pilate.