the latter end of my song is more calculated to please you than to
irritate your feelings."

Jack seemed pacified, and Harry continued his strain.


"And fill a bumper to the brim--
A flowing one--and drink to him
Who, let the world go sink or swim,
Would arm for Britain's liberty.

"No matter what may be his hue,
Or black, or white, or green, or blue,
Or Papist, Paynim, or Hindoo,
We'll drink to him right cordially."


Jack was so pleased with the friendly turn which the latter part
of Harry's song took that he joyfully stretched out his hand, and
even joined in chorus to the concluding stanza.

The fire had now decayed on the hearth, the whisky-bottle was almost
emptied, and the two sentinels, getting drowsy, put out the candle
and laid down their heads to slumber. The song and the laugh and
the jest were now hushed, and no sound was to be heard but the
incessant "click, click," of the clock in the inner room and the
deep, heavy breathing of old Moya in the chimney-corner.

They had slept they knew not how long when the old hag awakened
with a wild shriek. She jumped out of bed, and crouched between