Night came and the fog came with it. Dimmer and dimmer grew the flashes from the light-house lantern until, at last, they could no longer be distinguished from the shore, and then, to the people of the great city came a sensation. "Chippie, get your hair cut, hair cut, hair cut, Chippie, get your hair cut, hair cut short." Loud and clear from away out in the harbor came the notes of the rollicking tune, once so generally popular. The atmosphere was fairly saturated with it. Never had even the howl of the detested Siren so thoroughly permeated every outdoor nook and cranny of the town. The moving multitudes on the brilliantly lighted streets paused and listened, and as they stood there, lost and curious, the same sweet but tremendous voice informed them affably: "There'll be a hot time, In the old town to-night." Evidently this spirit of the waters, was of a lively, not to say hilarious, disposition--at least that was the first impression given--but as the hours passed, the music changed in character, and it finally dawned upon the populace that there was method in the madness of the Siren--for the news had flown rapidly of what the wonder was--gentler airs succeeded until the hour when the young men calling should go home, when apparently impersonating all the young women in the city, the Siren spoke softly: "Bid me good-bye and go!" and, later, as the time came when erring heads of families might be lingering out too late for their own good, the mentor started in with-- "Oh, Willie, we have missed you!" and, a little later, after apparent consideration, wailed out despairingly: "Oh, father, dear father, come home with me now." It was charming! Still later, came soothing, familiar airs in a minor key, such as were sleep-encouraging, and there was no variation from this until six a.m., when there was an outbreak: "I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up this morning! The sergeant's worse than the private, The captain's worse than the sergeant! The major's worse than the captain, The colonel's the worst of 'em all! I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up to-day!" Ringing out over all the city was the reveille, but, as if in drowsy answer came a little later, almost like an echo--the lazy, listless, "Let me dream again." Evidently not what was approved of, for, sharply and indignantly, followed the peremptory demand to-- "Take your clothes and go."