Cuant d’Orien lus
Tres reys la stralla veran,
Deu omnipotent,
Adora lo vingaran. 
Un present inferan,
De mil encens y or,
A lu beneit Seno,
Que conesce cual se vol. 

                        Disciarem lu dol, &c.

Tot fu gayant
Para cumpli lu prumas;
Y lu Esperit sant
De un angel fan gramas. 
Gran foc ences,
Que crama lu curagia;
Deu nos da lenguagia,
Para fe lo que Deu vol. 

                        Disciarem lu dol, &c.

Cuant trespasa
De quest mon nostra Senora,
Al cel s’empugia
Sun fil la matescia ora. 
O emperadora,
Que del cel sou eligida! 
Lu rosa florida,
Me resplanden que un sol. 

                        Disciarem lu dol, &c.

Y el tercer giorn
Que Jesus resunta,
Deu y Aboroma,
Que la mort triumfa. 
De alli se balla
Para perldra Lucife,
An tot a seu peuda,
Que de nostro ser el sol. 

                        Disciarem lu dol, &c[1]

After this hymn, the following stanzas, soliciting the customary gift of cakes or eggs, are sung: 

Ce set sois que vain cantant,
Regina celastial! 
Dunus pan y alagria,
Y bonas festas tingau. 
Yo vos dou sus bonas festas,
Danaus dines de sus nous;
Sempre tarem lus mans llestas
Para recibi un grapat de ous.

  Y el giorn de pascua florida
    Alagramos y giuntament;
  As qui es mort par darnos vida
    Ya viu gloriosament.

  Aquesta casa esta empedrada,
    Bien halla que la empedro;
  Sun amo de aquesta casa
    Baldria duna un do. 
  Furmagiada, o empanada,
    Cucutta o flao;
  Cual se vol cosa me grada,
    Sol que no me digas que no[2].

The shutters are then opened by the people within, and a supply of cheese-cakes, or other pastry, or eggs, is dropped into a bag carried by one of the party, who acknowledge the gift in the following lines, and then depart: 

  Aquesta casa esta empedrada,
    Empedrada de cuatro vens;
  Sun amo de aquesta casa,
    Es omo de compliment[3].

If nothing is given, the last line reads thus: 

  No es omo de compliment.

Letter XV.

A Voyage from St. Augustine to Savannah.

Savannah, April 28, 1843.

On the morning of the 24th, we took leave of our good friends in St. Augustine, and embarked in the steamer for Savannah.  Never were softer or more genial airs breathed out of the heavens than those which played around us as we ploughed the waters of the Matanzas Sound, passing under the dark walls of the old fort, and leaving it behind us, stood for the passage to the main ocean.

It is a common saying in St. Augustine, that “Florida is the best poor man’s country in the world,” and, truly, I believe that those who live on the shores of this sound find it so.  Its green waters teem with life, and produce abundance of the finest fish,