With such expressions as these, the young man, whose brain, never one of the strongest, was at present whirling in confusion, began to make his way towards the Folly, without troubling himself to think what amazement or affliction his absence might cause his friends. Indeed, he was fast verging towards that happy state in which man shows his loftiest contempt of the world and the world's ways, and his disregard of all those restraints and encumbrances which society has imposed upon the free-born lord of creation. He had left the hovel without his hat; but what cared he for such a superfluity, of a fine summer night, even although beginning a walk over hill and hollow, of full a mile in extent? Had he left it even without his boots, it is questionable whether he would have noticed the deficiency, until recalled to his senses by the roughness of the road. In a word, the wine he had already swallowed, had made serious inroads upon a brain that was always 'very poor and unhappy for drinking;' and, as it frequently happens in such cases, the exercise of walking more than counteracted the effects of the cooling air; so that, by the time he had trudged half the distance towards the paddock, the young gentleman was in the happiest spirits imaginable, wholly insensible of his condition, and almost unconscious of the purpose that had drawn him so far. He even began to sing along the road, and by the time he had reached the gate, was trolling a song, of a character ludicrous enough to come from his lips, but which, perhaps caught originally from those of some wag or philosopher of the camp, was now suggested by the spirit of happy indifference it breathed to all sublunary concerns, and was therefore in excellent harmony with his own feelings. It was the song of _Poor Joe_, and was sung with wondrous emphasis and gusto. I. Poor Joe! I've no wealth but content at command, I am otherwise poor as a rat; But while the world covets one's houses and land, I'm sure 'twill not rob me of that, Poor Joe! I'm sure 'twill not rob me of that. II. I've no money, no money to squander in wine, To aid me in soft'ning my lot: But then, if the shame of a poor man be mine, The shame of a scoundrel shall not, Poor Joe! The shame of a scoundrel shall not. III. No sweetheart to flatter, no wife to applaud,-- Poor Joe! he may house him or roam; But, sure, if he meets with no angel abroad, He'll hap on no devil at home, Poor Joe! He'll hap on no devil at home. IV. Poor Joe! I've no friends, as, if richer, I might, But for that I'll not bitterly grieve; If there's none, with the gabble of love, to delight, Why then there are none to deceive, Poor Joe! Why then there are none to deceive. V.