ighbor who was so suddenly aroused, and who was distinguished by
a steeple-crowned hat, did not appear to care _where_ Vilikins was
a-walking, or to take much interest in the particulars of the said walk,
for he immediately turned on the other side, tied himself up in a worse
knot than he was in before, and attempted to sleep again. He had in so
doing shaken from the top of his mountainous hat about half a peck of
cinders, directly into the mouth of the vocalist. The latter gentleman,
however, seemed nothing disconcerted by this unexpected pulverulent
donation, but, removing those particles which most interfered with his
vocal apparatus, he proceeded with his melody. This time he progressed
as far as to state emphatically that,

"Vilikins vas a-valkin' in his garding one day,"

And was about to add the explanatory notes, that it was the "back
garding," when his left-hand neighbor emerged from a condition of
somnolency into a state of unusual wakefulness.

The most noticeable thing about this last named individual was the
optical fact that he had but one eye. And as this solitary orb was
partially filled with the dust which had accumulated therein, during a
ten hours' nap in a rail-car, over a sandy road, with a headwind, it
might be supposed that his facilities for visual observation were
somewhat abridged. This did not prove, however, to be the case, for with
a single glance of this encumbered optic, he seemed to take in the
character of the singer, and to make up his mind instanter that he was a
good fellow and a man to be acquainted with.

Acting promptly upon this extemporaneous opinion, he held out his hand
with the remark:

"I don't want to interfere with any arrangements you have made,
stranger, but here's my hand, and my name's Wagstaff--let's be jolly."

The singer had by this time got to the chorus of his song, and although
he took the extended hand, his only immediate reply to the observations
of one-eyed Wagstaff, was "too ral li, too ral li, too ral li la," which
he repeated with an extra shake on the last "la," before he condescended
to answer. And even then his observation, though poetic, was not
particularly coherent or relevant. It was couched in the following
language.

"Jolly? yes, we'll be jolly. Old King Cole was a jolly old soul, and a
jolly old soul was he. He called for his pipe and he called for his
bowl--wonder if he got it? My name is Dennis, my mother's maiden name
was Moore, so th