received and pocketed his bounty, without the least demonstration of
surprise or satisfaction; while the donor, turning to Mr. Pickle,
"You see, brother," said he, "I make good the old saying; we sailors
get money like horses, and spend it like asses: come, Pipes, let's
have the boatswain's whistle, and be jovial."

This musician accordingly applied to his mouth the silver instrument
that hung at the button-hole of his jacket, by a chain of the same
metal, and though not quite so ravishing as the pipe of Hermes,
produced a sound so loud and shrill, that the stranger, as it were
instinctively, stopped his ears, to preserve his organs of hearing
from such a dangerous invasion. The prelude being thus executed,
Pipes fixed his eyes upon the egg of an ostrich that depended
from the ceiling, and without once moving them from that object,
performed the whole cantata in a tone of voice that seemed to be
the joint issue of an Irish bagpipe and a sow-gelder's horn: the
commodore, the lieutenant, and landlord, joined in the chorus,
repeating this elegant stanza:--

Bustle, bustle, brave boys!
Let us sing, let us toil,
And drink all the while,
Since labour's the price of our joys.


The third line was no sooner pronounced, than the can was lifted
to every man's mouth with admirable uniformity; and the next word
taken up at the end of their draught with a twang equally expressive
and harmonious. In short, the company began to understand one another;
Mr. Pickle seemed to relish the entertainment, and a correspondence