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gb xoslot "I neber spoke noffin but the truf, Massa Ossifer." "That will do; stop her and anchor, Mr. Flint," said Christy, as he looked about him in an endeavor to penetrate the fog in which the vessel was buried. Possibly the man under examination was not wholly responsible for his distortion of the name of Captain Passford's estate, as Christy was beginning to reap the penalty of his imprudence the night before, in exposing himself barefooted and half-clothed to the chill midnight air, and was developing a cold in the head that already affected his enunciation. "I cannot say that I was; the cause of the South is religion itself, and I am there every time. Who told you that I had been engaged in smuggling?" "Dave," repeated Christy, in a more decided tone after he had heard the voice of the steward. "But why are you out doors at this time of night?" Mrs. Passford insisted. "You will catch a cold that will lay you up, if you go out in that condition."