I was turning to go to sleep again, when a female, in a small suppressed voice, sung the following snatch of a vulgar Port Royal ditty, which I scarcely forgive myself for introducing here to polite society. “Young hofficer come home at night, Him give me ring and kisses; Nine months, one picaniny white, Him white almost like missis. But missis fum my back wid switch, Him say de shild for massa; But massa say him” The singer broke off suddenly, as if disturbed by the approach of some one. “Hush, hush, you old foolish--” said a man’s voice, in the same low whispering tone; “you will waken de dronken sentry dere, when we shall all be put in iron. Hush, he will know my voice more better.” It was now clear that some one wished to attract my attention; besides, I had a dreamy recollection of having heard both the male and female voices before. I listened, therefore, all alive. The man began to sing in the same low tone. “Newfoundland dog love him master de morest Of all de dog ever I see; Let him starve him, and kick him, and cuff him de sorest, Difference none never makee to he.” There was a pause for a minute or two. “It no use,” the same voice continued; “him either no dere, or he won’t hear us.” “Stop,” said the female, “stop; woman head good for someting. I know who he shall hear.--Here, good dog, sing psalm; good dog, sing psalm,’ and thereupon a long loud melancholy howl rose wailing through the night air. “If that be not my dear old dog Sneezer, it is a deuced good imitation of him,” thought I. The woman again spoke--“Yowl leetle piece more, good dog,” and the howl was repeated. I was now certain. By this time I had risen, and stood at the open window; but it was too dark to see any thing distinctly below. I could barely distinguish two dark figures, and what I concluded was the dog sitting on end between them. “Who are you?” “What do you want with me?” “Speak softly, massa, speak softly, or the sentry may hear us, for all de rum I give him.” Here the dog recognised me, and nearly spoiled sport altogether; indeed it might have cost us our lives, for he began to bark and frisk about, and to leap violently against the end of the capstan-house, in vain endeavours to reach the window.. “Down, Sneezer, down, sir; you used to be a dog of some sense; down.” But Sneezer’s joy had capsized his discretion, and the sound of my voice pronouncing his name drove him mad altogether, and he bounded against the end of the shed, like a battering-ram. “Stop, man, stop,” and I held down the bight of my neckcloth, with an end in each hand. He retired, took a noble run, and in a trice hooked his forepaws in the handkerchief, and I hauled him in at the window. “Now, Sneezer, down with you, sir, down with you, or your rampaging will get all our throats cut.” He cowered at my feet, and was still as a lamb from that moment. I stepped to the window. “Now, who are you, and what do you want?” said I.