A celebrated literary character, in a northern metropolis, had a black
servant, whom he occasionally employed in beating covers for woodcocks
and other game. On one occasion of intense frost, the native of
Afric's sultry shores was nearly frozen to death by the cold and wet
of the bushes, which sparkled, (but not with fire-flies,) and on
which, pathetically blowing his fingers, he was heard to exclaim, in
reply to an observation of his master, that "the woodcocks were very,
scarce," "Ah, massa, me wish woodcock never been!"
* * * * *