“An what was the result? Did he spering tew meet me? Did he clasp the babe? Did he evince a mite of yearnin or kimpassion? Did he even try to get a sight of the pootiest little face zat ever was--bress him.” Here Captain Corbet began to show signs of growing maudlin, but he checked himself and went on. “He! not he. What did he do, young sirs? You saw him. Bar witness tew what I say. He took his departoor. He felled, like an evil sperrit, at the approach of that cherub. An I--I felt it sore--I felt it--an I feel it still,--yes, I do,--yea, even down to the toes of my butes!” [Illustration: 0299] Here followed a long silence, which the boys did not break, for they did not know what to say to soothe the woes of the afflicted captain. At length he looked up, and went on in a tone of sadness, in which might be detected something like resentment. “Fust opinions is alius krect. You mind, boys, what I told you on the briny deep. I said that the heart of Mr. Long was as hard as the neither milestone. Terew, when, on that eventfooil trile, he riz up for me, an fit down my fiendish prosecooter, an gently tetched him up on the roar by that tremenjuous outbust abeout the babby; when all that was a happenin, I did think I’d a leetle mis-jedged him. But did I? No. I come to show a parient’s gratitood by presentin before him my most perecious treasoor. An what was the result? What? Why, he met me with his habitooil hardheartedness. I found him stiff as a marbial statoot, cold an freezin as a icicle, rugged an onfeelin as a rocky precipious!” As he ended, he rose from his chair. The boys now gathered about him, and asked him to come up to Bart’s room, just overhead, and let them see his infant. They addressed consoling words to him, and sought to smooth down his ruffled feelings. But Captain Corbet shook his head. “No, boys,” said he, “thankee kindly. You’re all right,--’tain’t you, ’tain’t your fault,--but I feel sore. There’s somethin opperessive in this here intellectooil atmosphiour. I must seek elsewhere for comfort to my ruffled busom. Thankee kindly, boys. Some other time, not now--some other time.” Saying this, the aged captain left the room, and descended the stairs, and took his departure. The boys watched his venerable figure till it paased out of sight; and the slow pace, and bent head, and mournful mood of their beloved navigator touched all their hearts with a common feeling of sympathy. As Captain Corbet’s retreating figure disappeared from view, the boys turned away, and walked slowly along the front of the Academy, with a vague idea of taking a walk up to the camp. But before they had gone any great distance they met Dr. Porter. “Boys,” said he, “you’ll be glad to know that your French relics are all labelled, and are now ready to be taken to the Museum.” “May we take them there, sir?” “O, yes.” “When?” “Now, if you like. I’ll go back to the house, and let you have them.”