"She trails a royal following, And a merry mad court doth keep, With her chirping boys that walk i' the shade, And wake when the bailiff's asleep. Sing, Hic and hoc sumus nocturno, Huzza for the jolly old moon! "Master Owl he is her chancellor, And the bat is his serving-man; They tell no tales of what they see, But wink when we turn up the can. Sing, Hic and hoc sumus nocturno, Huzza for the jolly old moon! "Her chorister is Goodman Frog, With a glow-worm for his link; And all who would make court to her, Are fain, good faith! to drink. Sing, Hic and hoc sumus nocturno, Huzza for the jolly old moon!" This ditty was scarcely concluded--for it was spun out with several noisy repetitions of the chorus--before the troop reined up at the gate of the Fort. The drowsy sentinel undid the bolt at the Captain's summons, and, in a very short space, the wearied adventurers were stretched in the enjoyment of that most satisfactory of physical comforts, the deep sleep of tired men. CHAPTER XII. There remains A rugged trunk, dismember'd and unsightly, Waiting the bursting of the final bolt To splinter it to shivers. THE DOOM OF DEVORGOIL. The shore of the Chesapeake between Cape St. Michael--as the northern headland at the mouth of Potomac was denominated by the early settlers--and the Patuxent, is generally flat, and distinguished by a clear pebbly beach or strand. The shore, comprising about twenty miles, is intersected by a single creek, that of St. Jerome, which enters the bay some five or six miles north of the Potomac. The line of beach, which I have referred to, is here and there relieved by small elevations which in any other region would scarce deserve the name, but which are sufficiently prominent in this locality to attract remark. From the general level of the country they rise high enough to afford a clear prospect over the wide waters, and no less to distinguish the landward perspective to the mariner whose eye eagerly seeks the varieties of landscape as he holds his course up the bay. At a few points these small hills terminate immediately upon the tide in the abrupt form of a cliff, and, at others, take the shape of a knoll sinking away by a rapid, but grass-covered, declivity to the strand. This latter feature is observable in the vicinity of St. Jerome's, where the slope falls somewhat abruptly to the level of the tide, leaving something above fifty paces in width of low ground between its base and the ordinary water-mark. It was upon this flat that, in ancient times, stood the dwelling house of Paul Kelpy the fisherman--a long, low building of deal boards, constructed somewhat in the shape of a warehouse or magazine. Some quarter of a mile along the beach, so sheltered under the brow of the slope as scarcely to be seen amongst the natural shrubbery that shaded it, stood a cottage or hut of very