“You’ve onmanned me--you have, railly. The mention of that blessed babby kind o’ took away all my strength. But I’ll reward you, boys. When we get back, I’ll make you all come up, and introduce you all to the babby himself,--_sometime when the old woman’s away, you know,_” he added, mysteriously. “I will now occupy the time by continuing the hymn,” said Bart, solemnly. Whereupon he proceeded: “I love to go to Blomidon, Its beauty for to feel; But I’d prefer a better fare Than pork and Indian meal. Chorus. “Than pork and Indian meal, my friends; Than pork and Indian meal.-- O, I’d prefer a better fare Than pork and Indian meal.” This was sung earnestly and with very deep feeling. The recollection of their melancholy condition caused a mild pathos to be infused into the tones of all. Some of them seemed to be shedding tears. At any rate, they held handkerchiefs to their eyes. The next verse: “I love to sail on Minas Bay, Its beauty for to see; To hunt for clams among the sands, And put them into me. CHorus. “And put them into me, my friends; And put them into me. To hunt for clams among the sands, And put them into me.” The mild melancholy that characterized the last chorus here changed into a livelier note, expressive of greater cheerfulness. The next verse: “Pratt’s Cove it has the biggest clams That ever mortal saw; But when we hunt for clams again, We mustn’t eat them raw. CHorus. “We mustn’t eat them raw, my friends; We mustn’t swallow them raw. O, clams are good for human food, But we mustn’t eat them raw.” This was sung energetically, yet in a dignified manner. The chorus was intended to convey a wholesome piece of advice to those who might happen to be in need of it,--Pat, for instance,--and so it was sung with dignity; at the same time, the energy with which it was rendered was admirably adapted to enforce the advice and carry it home to the heart and conscience of the hearer. The next verse: “We’ve got molasses for our food, It came from Tri-ni-dad; And when to candy it is boiled, It really isn’t bad. Chorus, “It really isn’t bad, my friends; It isn’t very bad. Molasses, boiled, to candy turns,’ And really isn’t bad.”