"That," said the chairman, "is the crown awarded to genius. Mr. Parnassus has this evening--or, I should say, this morning--favoured us with a poem." "Humph!" said the captain, who was not of a poetical nature himself. "Yes," continued the chairman, "a poem; the work of his own pure brain, for which he has been rewarded with the crown that now adorns his temples, a crown of no intrinsic value, as you perceive, like the bejewelled diadem of royalty, but which, nevertheless, has been sought after by minds no less ambitious in the early days of ancient history, when the love of honour alone was a deeper incitement to the soul than the mere love of worldly pelf, and when once obtained, was guarded as zealously----" Here our comic friend showed some signs of returning animation. He stretched, yawned, and, rubbing his eyes, gazed round upon the company in bewilderment. He also fixed his eyes on the laurel crown, and so ludicrous was the expression of wonder on his countenance, although he did not utter a word, that the whole company was thrown into an immoderate fit of laughter, which completely drowned the end of the chairman's sententious speech. The poor little comedian got most unmercifully chaffed by each of the company in turn, being asked gravely by one what his opinion was of the last story; by another, whether he liked the punch--whether it was strong enough for him. By another wag he was offered a penny for his thoughts; while another insisted upon hearing the story he had been thinking of all that time, etc., etc. The little man answered good-humouredly to all their bantering, when the president once more thumped the table. "Captain Toughyarn," he began, "you have been guilty at our meeting of falling asleep in the middle of a story, and of being so engrossed in your state of--of--What shall I say, gentlemen?--of lethargy, as to be totally unconscious of a most spirited song that ensued. You have raised our curiosity, however, by telling us that the song entered into and formed part of your dream. We would fain hear your dream, as some slight expiation of such gross violation of etiquette." "What will he say to me," thought our comic friend, "if he doesn't let the captain escape?" "Hear, hear!" cried several voices at once. "By Jove, you're in for it too, Jollytoast." "Well, chairman," said the captain, "I'm sorry I've broken through discipline; but when a man has got grog stowed away in his hull----" "Exactly so," said the chairman; "but for all that the company must hear your dream." "Yes, yes!" shouted the company. [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. THE MERMAID PALACE; OR, CAPTAIN TOUGHYARN'S DREAM. "Come unto these yellow sands." --_Tempest._ Well, messmates, I don't know whether I am sufficiently clear up aloft to recollect all the details of my dream; but hold hard a moment, perhaps I can. Ah! yes; I remember now.