doesn't believe in a
fellow's preachin' one thing and practisin' another; no, sirree! I
ain't a teetotaler, nohow; but I never touches a drop o' licker from the
time I sots foot aboard ship till I treads land ag'in--an' what I does,
every man Jack o' my crew shall do ditto, or I'll know an' larn 'em the
reason why, you bet! Howsomedever, mister, I guess we'd all better turn
in now," he added, making a signal which Mrs Brown and Celia always
interpreted as meaning their departure to bed. "Recollect, this'll be
our last night ashore, fur we shall all hev to rise airly in the mornin'
to git the _Pilot's Bride_ under weigh."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE VOYAGE OF THE SHIP.

When Fritz awoke the next day, however, he could not quite make out what
was going on in the place. There was a strong smell of gunpowder in the
air, and he could hear the cracking reports of small cannon, let off at
frequent intervals with much noise in the streets by a crowd of boys,
whose voices mingled with the excruciating sound of squeaking trumpets
and the shrill, ear-piercing scream of penny whistles.

For the moment, he thought he was dreaming again of the old days of the
war, and that the confused medley, which became each moment louder, was
but the half-waking recollection of the bivouac around Metz, with its
many constant alarms of sallies and sorties from the beleaguered
fortress; but, when he came downstairs from his bedroom, he was speedily
undeceived as to the reason for the pandemonium without.

The captain and Eric had already started off for the ship, and only Mrs
Brown and Celia were below waiting breakfast for him.

"What on earth is the matter?" he asked. "It seems like Bedlam broken
loose. Is there an insurrection going on?"

"Ah, they're having a fine time, ain't they!" said Miss Celia.

"But, what is it all about?" he repeated, gazing from one to the other
of the smiling ladies, almost bewildered by the uproar out of doors.

"Fourth of July," replied the lady of the house, as if that was quite a
sufficient answer and accounted for everything.

"The fourth of July!" he repeated mechanically. "What has the day of
the month got to do with it--is it an anniversary of some sort--some
national holiday?"

"An anniversary, indeed!" exclaimed Miss Celia indignantly. "I thought
you were such a good hand at history. Why, haven't you ever heard of
our glorious Declaration of Independence, when the free states of
America