At this Bart started up a song, which was a medley, made up of “Uncle Ned” and “The Mermaid.” The first verse was as follows:-- “There was an ole nigger, and he sailed on the sea; And he lived not far from the land; And he had no wool on de top of his head, And a comb and a glass in his hand. Chorus. “O, the sto-o-o-o-o-o-o-ormy winds, how they blow! So take up de shubbel an’ de hoe, While we poor sailor-boys are climbin’ up aloft. He has gone whar de good niggers go--‘gers go--‘gers go-- He has gone whar de good niggers go.” This astonishing production was sung with uncommon energy and spirit. At its close Bart retired below, while the others went on singing; and after a short time he returned with a piece of paper in his hand, and a triumphant smile on his face. “Hallo, Bart! what have you got there?” cried Bruce. . “It’s an original song,” said Bart. “By whom?” “Myself,” he replied, meekly. “Hurrah! Go it! Sing it! Give it to us!” “All right; but you must all join in the chorus.” “Of course. What’s the tune?” “‘Auld Lang Syne.’” “Go ahead, then, young feller! Propel! Shoot away! Beady--present--fire!” Waiting for the noise to subside, Bart stood in the midst of them, and after the cries had ceased, he began: “Should Capting Corbet be forgot, A-sailin’ o’er the sea! O, no! when we get back to school, We’ll often think of he. Choruss. “We’ll often think of he, my friends; We’ll often think of he. O, yes! when we get back to school, We’ll often think of he.” “What’s that?” cried Captain Corbet, with a smile of pleasure wreathing his venerable face. “Why, it ain’t--why, railly--why, it is me, too! Why, railly! An’ you made up all that? Wal, now, I call that rale cute. I do, railly. On’y I do wish, sense you did take the trouble to make up that there,--bein’ as your hand was in,--I wish you’d kinder added a line interriducin’ the babby. We like to be kind o’ onseparable. It seems kind of agin natur’ to separate us.” “All right. I’ll introduce anything,” said Bart. “Here, boys, I’ll give you another chorus. ‘We’ll often think of he, my friends; We’ll often think of he; The capting and his schewner gay, Likewise his small ba-be-e-e-e-e.’” This new impromptu chorus was sung with still greater enthusiasm. Captain Corbet was affected to tears. Emotion overpowered him. As soon as he could muster strength to speak, he exclaimed,--