“Well, I will; but that’s not in my indentures.”

I called in at the widow’s after I left the doctor’s shop, and communicated the intended rebellion on the part of Tom.

“Well,” said Mrs. St. Felix, “I shall not forget to make the Spanish claim, and prevent Tom from walking Spanish.  The doctor is very inconsiderate; he forgets that Tom’s regard for liquorice is quite as strong as his own liking for a cigar.  Now, if the doctor don’t promise me to have a fresh supply for Tom, I won’t let him have a cigar for himself.”

The doctor was compelled to surrender at discretion.  The next wagon brought down one hundred weight of liquorice, and Tom recovered his health and the smiles of Anny Whistle.

When I left the widow’s I proceeded to the hospital to find Anderson and my father.  As I walked along I perceived Dick Harness on a bench, who hailed me.

“Well, Tom, I haven’t seen anything of you for I don’t know how long, since you’ve taken to a seafaring life.  This is a beautiful day, is it not?  It makes one feel so happy and cheerful such a day as this.  Everybody and everything looks gay, the birds seem so merry, and the little clouds seem to scud away as if their hearts were as light as themselves.  Come, sit down a minute; here’s a song for you you’ve never heard, one I don’t often sing, because they say it’s all about myself.”

“Well, then, I should like to hear that.”

“Here goes, then.

     “Sam Swipes, he was a seaman true,
       As brave and bold a tar
     As e’er was dressed in navy blue
       On board a man-of-war.

     “One fault he had—­on sea or land
       He was a thirsty dog;
     For Sammy never could withstand
       A glass or so of grog.

     “He always liked to be at sea,
       For e’en on shore, the rover,
     If not as drunk as he could be
       Was always ‘half seas over.’

     “The gunner, who was apt to scoff,
       With jokes most aptly timed,
     Said Sam might any day go off,
       ’Cause he was always ‘primed,’

     “Sam didn’t want a feeling heart,
       Though never seen to cry;
     Yet tears were always on the start,
       ‘The drop was in his eye.’

     “At fighting Sam was never shy,
       A most undoubted merit;
     His courage never failed, and why? 
       He was so full of ‘spirit.’

     “In action he had lost an eye,
       But that gave him no trouble;
     Quoth Sam, I have no cause to sigh,
       I’m always ‘seeing double.’

     “A shot from an unlucky gun
       Put Sam on timber pegs;
     It didn’t signify to one
       Who ne’er could ‘keep his legs.’

     “One night he filled a pail with grog,
       Determined he would suck it;
     He drained it dry, the thirsty dog! 
       Hiccupped, and ‘kicked the bucket.’”