The room was now full, but not crowded, it was too spacious well to be so. Some sixteen couples were dancing a quadrille to a lively tune played by the band, and among the dancers were to be seen old women, and children of ten or twelve: for it was not considered improper to be seen dancing at this humble assembly, and the neighbours frequently came in. The small tables and numerous chairs round the room were nearly all filled, beer was foaming from the mouths of the opened bottles, and there was the ringing of the glasses as they pledged each other. At several tables were assemblages of Dutch seamen, who smoked with all the phlegm of their nation, as they gravely looked upon the dancers. At another were to be seen some American seamen, scrupulously neat in their attire, and with an air _distinguee_, from the superiority of their education, and all of them quiet and sober. The basket-women flitted about displaying their stores, and invited every one to purchase fruit, and particularly hard-boiled eggs, which they had brought in at this hour, when those who dined at one might be expected to be hungry. Sailors' wives were also there, and perhaps some who could not produce the marriage certificates; but as these were not asked for at the door, it was of no consequence. About the centre of the room, at two small tables joined together, were to be seen the party from the _Yungfrau_: some were drinking beer, some grog, and Jemmy Ducks was perched on the table, with his fiddle as usual held like a bass viol. He was known by those who frequented the house by the name of the Manikin, and was a universal object of admiration and good-will. The quadrille was ended, and the music stopped playing. "Come now," said Coble, tossing off his glass, "spell oh!--let's have a song while they take their breath. Jemmy, strike up." "Hurrah for a song!" cries Jemmy. "Here goes." Jemmy then tuned one string of his fiddle, which was a little out, and accompanying his voice, sang as follows: all those who were present immediately keeping silence, for they were used to Jemmy's melody. Twas on the twenty-fourth of June, I sailed away to sea, I turned my pockets in the lap of Susan on my knee; Says I, my dear, 'tis all I have, I wish that it was more, It can't be helped, says Susan then, you know we've spent galore. You know we've spent galore, my Bill, And merry have been we, Again you must your pockets fill, For Susan on your knee. "Chorus, my boys--" For Susan on my knee, my boys, With Susan on my knee. The gale came on in thunder, lads, in lightning, and in foam, Before that we had sail'd away three hundred miles from home; And on the Sunday morning, lads, the coast was on our lee, Oh, then I thought of Portsmouth, and of Susan on my knee.