Well, you are. But keep the tar. How well I recollect, When Mike was in with us--proud, strong, erect-- _Mens conscia recti_--flinging mud, he stood, Austerely brave, incomparably good, Ere yet for filthy lucre he began To drive a cart as Stanford's hired man, That pitch-pot bearing in his hand, Old Nick Appeared and tarred us all with the same stick. _(Enter Old Nick)_. I hope he won't return and use his arts To make us part with our immortal parts. OLD NICK: Make yourself easy on that score my lamb; For both your souls I wouldn't give a damn! I want my tar-pot--hello! where's the stick? FITCH: Don't look at _me_ that fashion!--look at Pick. PICKERING: Forgive me, father--pity my remorse! Truth is--Mike took that stick to spank his horse. It fills my pericardium with grief That I kept company with such a thief. (_Endeavoring to get his handkerchief, he opens his coat and the tar-stick falls out. Nick picks it up, looks at the culprit reproachfully and withdraws in tears._) FITCH (_excitedly_): O Pickering, come hither to the brink-- There's something going on down there, I think! With many an upward smile and meaning wink The navvies all are running from the cut Like lunatics, to right and left-- PICKERING: Tut, tut-- 'Tis only some poor sport or boisterous joke. Let us sit down and have a quiet smoke. (_They sit and light cigars._) FITCH (_singing_): When first I met Miss Toughie I smoked a fine cigyar, An' I was on de dummy And she was in de cyar. BOTH (_singing_): An' I was on de dummy And she was in de cyar. FITCH (_singing_): I couldn't go to her, An' she wouldn't come to me; An' I was as oneasy As a gander on a tree. BOTH (_singing_): An' I was as oneasy As a gander on a tree. FITCH (_singing_): But purty soon I weakened An' lef' de dummy's bench, An' frew away a ten-cent weed To win a five-cent wench! BOTH (_singing_) An' frew away a ten-cent weed To win a five-cent wench! FITCH: Is there not now a certain substance sold Under the name of fulminate of gold, A high explosive, popular for blasting, Producing an effect immense and lasting? PICKERING: Nay, that's mere superstition. Rocks are rent And excavations made by argument. Explosives all have had their day and season; The modern engineer relies on reason. He'll talk a tunnel through a mountain's flank And by fair speech cave down the tallest bank.