“Solemn!” said Bart; “of course you do; so say we all of us. Why shouldn’t we?” “I feel,” said Captain Corbet, “a kind of pinin feelin--a longin and a hankerin after the babby.” “O, well, all right,” said Bart; “never mind the baby just now.” “But I feel,” said Captain Corbet, in a voice of exceeding mournfnlness--“I feel as though I’d orter jine the infant.” “O, never mind your feelings,” said Bart. “Have you got your mineral rod?” “I hev.” “Very well; try it.” “I’d rayther not. I--I--Couldn’t we postpone this here? It’s so solemn!” “Postpone it! Why, man, what are you thinking of? Postpone it! Nonsense! Think of your baby. Postpone it! And you pretend to be a father!” Captain Corbet drew a long sigh. “I feel,” said he, “rayther uncomfortable here;” and he pressed his hand against his manly bosom. “Never mind,” said Bart. “Come; try the mineral rod.” Captain Corbet took the rod, and tried to balance it on his finger; but his hand trembled so that it at once fell to the ground. The boys gave a cry of delight. He had been standing, as before, in the middle of the cellar, and the rod fell in the former place. “Not a bit of doubt about it!” cried Phil. “There it goes again! Come, let’s go to work, boys.” “But we must have some ceremonies,” said Bart. “It would never do to begin to dig without something.” “So I say,” remarked Captain Corbet, feebly. Meanwhile Solomon had been standing in his robes, a little apart, looking nervously around. “Hallo, Solomon!” cried Bart. Solomon gave a start. “Ya--ya--yas, sr.” “You’re not watching the lights.” “Ya--yasr.” “That basket has fallen.” “Ya, yasr,” said Solomon, whose teeth seemed to be chattering, and who seemed quite out of his senses. Bart walked up to him, and saw at a glance how it was. “Why, old Solomon,” said he, gently, “you’re not frightened--are you? It’s only our nonsense. Come, Grand Panjandrum, don’t take it in earnest. It’s all humbug, you know,” he added, dropping his voice. “Between you and me, we none of us take it in earnest. Come, you keep the lamps burning, and be the Grand Panjandrum.” At this a little of Solomon’s confidence was restored. He ventured to the edge of the cellar, and lifted up the basket in time to save it from burning up; but scarce had he done this than he retreated; the gloom, the darkness, the magic ceremonies, were too awful. “Come,” said Tom, “let’s begin the ceremonies.” Captain Corbet gave another sigh. “I feel dreadful anxious,” said he, “about the infant; I’m afeard somethins happened; I feel as if I’d orter be to hum.” “All right, captain,” said Bart; “we’ll all be home before long, and with the _pot of gold_, you know. Come, cheer up, for the ceremonies are going to begin.” “See here, now,” said Captain Corbet. “This here’s a solemn occasion. I feel solemn. It’s awful dark. We don’t know what’s buried here, or what will happen; so let’s don’t have any heathen ceremonies.”