"A song from Mr. Pate!" cried the Professor. "A song from Mr. Pate!" shouted Seddon. "Mr. Pate will now sing," said Toney. Thus urged, Pate seated himself, and in loud if not mellifluous tones sang as follows: The summer day's faded and starlight is streaming In beautiful showers from heaven above; And welcome sweet midnight! for then in its dreaming My spirit is wafted away to my love. Let others rejoicing, then welcome Aurora, As fann'd by zephyrs she blushes so bright; But midnight! sweet midnight! I'll ever adore her, And mourn when the morning returns with its light. "Mr. Pate," said the Professor, "if you wake the young lady up by warbling that melody under her window, she will think that you are an angel of magnificent proportions and tremendous vocal powers. Now, Mr. Wiggins, it is your turn." Wiggins cleared his throat and sang the following ditty: Oh, maiden fair, With raven hair, And lips so sweetly pouting, I do avow, That until now, I've in my mind been doubting If 'twere not sin To rank you in The race of us poor mortals; Thinking you might, By some fair sprite, Escaped from heaven's own portals. But as I now Gaze on that brow So fondly and so madly, I am afraid, My lovely maid, My fancy's lowered sadly; For while 'mid bliss So sweet as this My soul's to rapture given, Alas! my mind Is more inclined To earth than 'tis to heaven. "Indeed, Mr. Wiggins, you must not warble that song under the young lady's window," said the Professor. "I do not intend to do so," said Wiggins. "I am glad of that," said the Professor, "for if you did she would imagine that you were some fallen angel on a midnight peregrination. And now, Toney, let us hear from you." Toney sang: Come to the green grove! where wild vines are clinging Around the tall elms, whose broad boughs are flinging Their shade o'er the roof of the cottage so near To the banks of the streamlet meandering clear. There we'll recline 'neath the shade of the willow, Where roses and lilies have wreathed a sweet pillow, And the goldfinch concealed in the green boughs above Is warbling all day to his beautiful love. There we will watch the blithe humming-bird roving, And purple-winged butterflies fairy-like moving Among the blue violets that bloom at our feet, And throw all around us their fragrance so sweet. There thou shalt sing, love, and then as I hear thee, Drink in thy soft tones, and know that I'm near thee, I'll fancy 'tis Eden around me I see, And thou art an angel to share it with me. "Toney," said the Professor, "when the young lady hears that she will suppose that the spirit of a troubadour is warbling under her window. And now, Mr. Seddon." Tom sang: