'

These conflicting emotions successfully simulated, Sir Patrick
resumed:--

'"O wha is he has done this deed,
And tauld the King o' me,--
To send us out, at this time o' the year,
To sail upon the sea?"'

Then the king stood up in the unstable tower and shouted his own
orders:--

'"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
Our ship maun sail the faem;
The King's daughter o' Noroway,
'Tis we maun fetch her hame."'

"Can't we rig the ship a little better?" demanded our stage-manager at
this juncture. "It isn't half as good as the tower."

Ten minutes' hard work, in which we assisted, produced something a
trifle more nautical and seaworthy than the first craft. The ground with
a few boards spread upon it was the deck. Tarpaulin sheets were arranged
on sticks to represent sails, and we located the vessel so cleverly that
two slender trees shot out of the middle of it and served as the tall
topmasts.

"Now let us make believe that we've hoisted our sails on 'Mononday morn'
and been in Noroway 'weeks but only twae,'" said our leading man; "and
your time has come now,"--turning to us.

We felt indeed that it had; but plucking up sufficient courage for the
lords o' Noroway, we cried accusingly,--

'"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our King's gowd,
And a' our Queenis fee!"'

Oh but Sir Apple-Cheek was glorious as he roared virtuously:--

'"Ye lee! ye lee! ye leers loud,
Fu' loudly do you lee!

"For I brocht as much white monie
As gane my men and me,
An' I brocht a half-fou o' gude red gowd
Out ower the sea wi' me.

"But betide me well, betide me wae,
This day I'se leave the shore;
And never spend my King's monie
'Mong Noroway dogs no more.

"Make ready, make ready, my merry men a',
Our gude ship sails the morn."'

"Now you be the sailors, please!"

Glad to be anything but Noroway dogs, we recited obediently--

'"Now, ever alake, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm?
. . . . . . .
And if ye gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll come to harm."'

We added much to the effect of this stanza by flinging ourselves on the
turf and embracing Sir Patrick's knees, with which touch of melodrama he
was enchanted.

Then came a storm so terrible that I can hardly trust myself to describe
its fury. The entire corps dramatique personated the elements, and tore
the gallant ship in twain, while Sir Patrick sh